


Dynasty

by Persephone_Lancaster



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Drama, House Lannister, House Martell, House Stark, House Targaryen, House Tully, House Tyrell, M/M, Politics, Secrets, Smut, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Lancaster/pseuds/Persephone_Lancaster
Summary: Dynasties rise and fall but the 300 year old Targaryen dynasty has prevailed. With some arguing the dragon monarchy is rotting and has had its day, a teenage boy is thrust into the most senior position of power and must assume responsibility of an entire realm whilst juggling his family, foreign powers and romance. He must preserve his house's authority and make a name for himself that lives up to his ancestors.





	1. King of the Seven Kingdoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This is my first fan fiction which I have wanted to write but never did. I have been influenced by other great works on the platform.
> 
> English is not my first language so it would be great if you guys could point out any spelling or grammar mistakes. However, I still have a fairly good level of English so do not be worried that the story will be difficult to understand due to poor English, it won't. Thanks.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Prologue:**

 

The maester’s acolyte ran through the corridors of the ancient castle, panting and heaving. The castle commissioned by Aegon the Conqueror but finished by Maegor the Cruel. Descending into Maegor’s Holdfast, a castle within a castle, to the royal apartments, specifically to the chamber of the now most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.

 

Coming to a halt outside the chamber, “Is the Queen Mother awake?”, the acolyte directed the question to Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, whilst attempting to catch his breath.

 

The Lord Commander turned to the acolyte, appraising his distressed appearance. _Running the length of the castle would do that to one._ “Yes, she’s in there with her ladies having her morning meal, I presume by your unkemptness you wish to see her,” and without waiting for a response he turned and knocked on the door.

 

“Enter,” came a voice within.

 

Ser Gerold bowed to one of the occupants of the room, “Acolyte Rodner to see you, Your Grace, it seems to be important.”

 

“Let him in.” The Lord Commander moved aside, and the acolyte entered the room. The chamber is what one would expect of a royal room that belonged to a Targaryen. The large canopy bed decorated with curtains that displayed the red and black colours and sigil of House Targaryen; plush rugs imported from the far east; a large fireplace that was crackling with a settee nearby - pillows placed on top - and the small table situated near the balcony, often used to host guests, now hosting the Queen Dowager and her ladies-in-waiting.

 

The acolyte naturally bowed to the woman sitting at the head of the table. “Your Grace, a raven arrived from Lord Velaryon,” he hesitated before continuing, “I’m afraid it…. it brings grave tidings.”

 

The Queen Mother stared at him for a good minute, the acolyte wondering if she had even heard him. He was about to repeat himself when she waved her hand. Her ladies immediately stood, curtsied, and made for the exit.

 

It was not until the acolyte heard the door close that conversation once again resumed. “Give me the scroll.”

 

Rodner snapped to attention and moved towards the Dowager Queen, handing her the scroll. Her eyes moved from the acolyte to the scroll, now in her hand. Rodner could see her eyes roaming about the small parchment, taking in every word.

 

The Queen Mother closed her eyes once she finished reading the message and after a long moment, the Queen Grandmother opened her eyes, resolution set within them. 

 

“I need you to transcribe two messages for me of the utmost importance” ordered Queen Rhaella.

 

“To where shall I be sending the ravens, Your Grace?” enquired the acolyte.

 

“Winterfell,” returned the one worded reply.

 

* * *

 

**The Wolf Prince**

 

The word ‘trouble’ was a major understatement. He was in danger, he knew it. _Danger from being murdered by his aunt and uncle._ It had not started out with this intention. They just simply wished to play a prank on his cousin that would liven her up a bit. However, what started as an innocent trick had transformed into a multitude of unpredictable events.

 

Now, he stood in front of his uncle next to his cousins: Robb Stark, heir to the North; Arya Stark, whom many of the elderly servants of Winterfell claimed looked like his mother; Bran Stark, who was meant to be the lookout! As well as Rickon Stark; who was standing proudly, smiling, as if his father was about to praise him. _Poor boy probably doesn’t even realise why we’re all here._ Also present was Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands and fellow accomplice, and his aunt Lady Catelyn Stark as well as said victim – his cousin Sansa, who stood covered in flour, rotten egg and was that cattle dung? _I told Arya not to put that in!_

 

“Well, what do you all have to say for yourself?!” demanded his uncle - Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

 

An abundance of excuses shot through his head. _‘I tried to stop them?’ No, I can’t throw them under the carriage. ‘We tried baking a cake?’ No, that’s no good; cake does not have cattle dung, thank you Arya!_

 

“We wanted to play a prank on Sansa because she’s uptit” blabbed his youngest cousin with a wide grin plastered on his innocent face.

 

His uncle’s head snapped towards Rickon’s direction, making Jon surprised that his uncle didn’t damage anything in the process. His aunt looked like she was about to faint.

 

“Uptight Rickon, uptight, not uptit,” Bran gently corrected his brother.

 

“Great, now we have to tell the truth - stupid,” moaned Arya.

 

“Arya Stark! You will watch your tongue,” Lady Stark’s vein was throbbing in her forehead. _She means business._

 

“We wanted to play a harmless prank on Sansa and her friends, Lord Stark, we did not mean for it to get this out of hand,” Jon spoke up. Maybe it was his upbringing that made him think he should be the spokesman?

 

“I have a kitchen that is a mess; an angry gardener who is raving about missing equipment; a mule in my great hall and a Kingsguard who is blissfully unaware of what transpired.” If Jon knew the situation was not so serious, he could have sworn his uncle’s mouth twitched. _No, must have been the imagination._

 

“Don’t forget a daughter covered in mess and a ruined dress, my brother had sent this from Riverrun,” added his aunt. Jon looked at his cousin and saw the tears in her eyes, he felt guilt climbing its way up his body.

 

“You will all clean the kitchens and the great hall yourselves, with no help to be asked from the servants. I want to be able to see my reflection in those floors. You will also return the gardener’s equipment; apologise, and to make amends to him, dedicate your time in helping him with the gardens.” He gave them all a look, daring them to challenge him on his decision. No-one did. “Apologise to Sansa, all of you.”

 

They all collectively turned to his cousin. “Sorry, Sansa,” came the chorus of apologies; though Jon barely heard the ‘stupid’ thrown in by Arya under her breath, thankfully no-one but him heard.

 

“Get to cleaning now”. They all ran for the door, hoping to leave before Lord Stark added on more punishments. As Jon closed the door, he heard Lord and Lady Stark’s assurances that they would send for two new dresses from her Uncle Edmure.

 

* * *

 

 

They had cleaned the great hall and were now halfway through cleaning the kitchen. Jon was on his knees, scraping egg off the wall and feeling thoroughly sorry for himself, cursing his rotten luck.

 

“I warned you not to do it but none of you listened, now you have to suffer the consequences,” Gage, the head cook of Winterfell’s kitchens, pompously stated, sounding far too pleased with himself. He sat at the table with a large mug and a slice of pie. _It’s a wonder he gets any food out of the kitchen,_ Jon thought mutinously.

 

“My my, are we looking for our dignity down there? If only Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys could see you now,” came the voice that belonged to the bane of Jon’s life.

 

Bran’s gasp was confirmation enough for Jon to know who was standing in front of him, his little cousin never failed to release his shock every time he saw the Kingsguard, despite him and Jon having resided in Winterfell for nearly 7 years.

 

The Prince looked up into green eyes. Green eyes filled with mirth.

 

Ser Jaime Lannister stood there in his golden gleaming armour and white long cloak. He looked every inch the handsome arrogant man that he was. _And one of few people I explicitly trust though I’d rather hang than ever admit that to him._

 

Jon didn’t like flashing his status as a prince, but he couldn’t help but think what his siblings would say if they could see the 'Stark Prince', as Aegon always called him, on his hands and knees now.

 

Aegon would probably die of a laughing fit whilst his eldest sister Rhaenys would wear that face that himself and Aegon had named ‘the septa face’, reprimanding him - “you should have listened to me when I told you not to do this.” Jon chuckled to himself thinking about his family and their reactions.

 

“See, I bring joy wherever I go. How dull your life would be without me,” the golden Kingsguard boasting was second language to Jon by now.

 

“I was actually laughing at that bit of green spinach stuck in your teeth, at least I hope it’s spinach as the alternative is you’ve been eating grass like the cattle, though I think you would feel right at home there, being with your own true kind,” quipped the Targaryen prince.

 

Jaime opened his mouth to surely answer back, _man has to have the last word_ , but was stopped by another entry into the kitchen.

 

“Jon,” it was his aunt, Lady Stark. She looked, what Jon could only describe as, remorseful.  _Is she that upset over the ruined dress?_ “Your lord uncle needs to speak to you in his study, it’s urgent.”

 

_Am I going to have an increase in my punishment? I knew I shouldn’t have designated myself as the spokesman, teaches me to take charge._ Jon stood up and began to make his way towards the exit.

 

“That’s not fair, how come he gets to leave?!” demanded an outraged Robb, with Theon and Arya nodding vigorously beside him.

 

“Not now Robb, you all finish cleaning then get yourselves washed up, I expect you to help your brother too,” the last part she directed to her oldest son, sternly.

 

Jon tuned the argument that had started behind him out with a scandalised Bran stating he didn’t need any help bathing. He turned to his aunt, “What is this about Aunt Cat?”

 

It was strange. She looked at him for a long moment, just observing his face as if memorising it. _What’s going on?_ She finally responded, “Your uncle is the best one to inform you.” He started making his way and heard Jaime following in his steps when his aunt spoke once again “Ser Jaime, Ser Evin is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

 

A confused Jaime made his way to the drawing room while the prince made his way up to the Lord’s study with two of his Targaryen retinue following behind him. He had barely knocked when his uncle called for him to enter. He obeyed, his guards waiting outside, making his way to the chair opposite his uncle. The Lord of Winterfell was reading something when he looked up as Jon sat down. _Okay, now I’m officially worried._ His uncle wore matching facial expressions as his wife.

 

Jon managed to throw a question out but was irritated at the obvious nervous tone his inquiry was etched in, “Is everything all right Lord Stark?”

 

His uncle drew a deep breath before responding, “I’m afraid not Jon, a raven arrived from King’s Landing. I’m sorry to tell you the news isn’t good.”

Immediately, awful thoughts of his family started running in his mind. _Was Alyssa hurt? She always rode her horse far too fast_. _Or was grandmother ill? Did Aegon injure himself doing something stupid again?_ “What happened?” Jon mumbled.

 

“I won’t beat around the bush, it’s your father and brother. As you know, they went on a trip to Lys. Ever since Lys was conquered by your father, stability needed to be established in the dominion. Your father was successful, and he was on his way back to the capital with your brother, the Crown Prince, when their ship was attacked by, whom we believe to be, pirates at the Stepstones.” His uncle took a deep breath and looked at him with sympathetic eyes, “The pirates could have been former residents of the Stepstones, angry at your father after he annexed them or petty pirates who simply stumbled upon the royal ships and saw an opportunity, alas they were attacked, and many lost their lives.”

 

Here his uncle looked directly into his eyes and shook his head, “I’m sorry, my boy. I am **so** sorry, but the loss of life includes your father and brother. King Rhaegar and Prince Aegon have passed away.”

 

Tinnitus. That was all the prince could hear. His ears had automatically began drowning out his uncle’s voice and started ringing. The pitch and volume only increasing. He closed his eyes and put his hands on his head, making a failed attempt to silence the noise.

 

His uncle had continued. At least, that was what Jon assumed as his uncle’s lips were still moving. He could see the Lord of Winterfell standing up and approach Jon, placing his hands on the princes’ shoulders and trying to speak to him. When Jon did not respond, his uncle began lightly shaking him. Jon would never be able to decipher what his uncle had been saying in that moment. Slowly, his hearing began returning. He felt numb. He felt like he should cry. _That was what people said was the appropriate response when people died._ _Jaime had once said he had cried when his mother, Lady Joanna, had perished. Then why don’t I feel that sensation to lament? That familiar sensation that would occur when I first arrived at Winterfell and homesickness arose._

 

However, the tears refused to arrive. _It’s not like I had a difficult relationship with father and Aegon. I had loved them both and I know they had loved me_. His father had **asked** him if he wanted to be fostered in the North, in his mother’s homeland, and he had agreed. _I wasn’t forced to leave. I **wanted** to go North._The King had even given him a ring that had been created to resemble a wolf and a dragon intertwined. His brother had been upset when he left as had he. _Then why aren’t the tears coming?_

 

“Jon! Jon!”, the prince looked at Lord Stark with a dazed look as his uncle stopped shaking him. Lowering his hands from his head, he tried his best to listen to what his uncle was saying, “Are you alright? Do you need me to summon Maester Luwin?” Still in bewilderment, Jon shook his head.

 

“No. No, I’m….I’m fine.” Lord Stark moved to a table on the side and returned momentarily with a small goblet of wine.

 

“Here, drink this. All of it. It’ll help.” As Jon nodded and began consuming, his uncle returned to his seat behind his desk.

 

“The remnants of the ship, thankfully, washed ashore with the remains of the King and the Prince of Dragonstone.” When he received no reply, the Lord of Winterfell resumed, “Jon,” the prince looked up at the mention of his name by the lord, “Do you know what this means?”

 

Jon drew his eyebrows into confusion, “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, do you know what the death of King Rhaegar and Crown Prince Aegon means?”

 

Jon swallowed what felt like a lump as his heart felt heavier. “Yes” he whispered. “It means I am the King.” Saying the words made it sound all the more definite and final.

 

“Yes, you are now the King of the Seven Kingdoms and Emperor of the Stepstones and Lys.” His uncle reached across the desk and grabbed Jon’s hand, squeezing it. “You have a letter from your royal grandmother”. He handed him an unbroken scroll. “You should read that in private. It may help to process everything.”

 

Jon nodded and slowly rose from made his seat. Making his way to the exit, he paused before opening the door, “Nothing will be the same will it?”

 

A pause. “Yes, I’m afraid everything will change now, my boy.”

 

Jon swallowed and nodded. Opening the door, he found all thirty of his Targaryen guards, with their commander Ser Evin standing in front of him as well as his Kingsguard, Ser Jaime. As soon as they saw him they drew their swords and went down to one knee.

 

“LONG LIVE THE KING!” They all bellowed in unison. Jon stood there, taking in the scene, before realising what to do next.

 

“Rise.”

 

As they rose, the King spoke, “I’m going to the Godswood, I wish to go alone.” Before they could answer he made his way to the sanctuary of the Old Gods. He didn’t stop for anyone, hoping no-one would approach him. No-one did, _maybe they already know?_ _Maybe they don’t know what to say? Maybe his uncle and aunt told them to leave him be?_ Whatever it was he didn't care. He was simply grateful that they weren’t bothering him.

 

The King made it to the Godswood and sank to the floor in front of the heart tree. He took a deep breath and broke the seal of the letter his grandmother had sent and began to read.

 

_To my winged-wolf,_

 

_I know how much you loved your father and brother and I know, like myself, you will be devastated by this loss. But you must put all your feelings aside now, for **duty**  _ _calls._

 

_The grief for my son; your father, and my eldest grandson; your older brother, will be felt all across the realm; from the northernmost parts of The Wall to the southernmost regions of Dorne; from the eastern isles of the Iron Islands to the western shores of Lys. Your people will now needyour **strength** and **leadership**._  

 

_I have seen three great monarchs and a fourth brought down through their failures to separate personal indulgences from duty. You **must not** make similar mistakes._

 

_Whilst you mourn our loved ones, you must also mourn someone else. Jon Targaryen, for he has now been replaced by another person. Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name. King Jaehaerys will frequently be in conflict with Jon Targaryen; but the fact is, the crown takes precedence. It must_   ** _always_** _come first._

 

_You will be entering the capital, the nest of vipers, soon. You will need to be: **smart** ; **decisive; strong** and **cunning**. For the others will act this way._  

 

_Return home my grandson, return home my King, to claim **your rightful throne**._   _To sit on the throne that our ancestors have done before you and assume the leadership of our century’s old dynasty._

 

_With Love,_

_Rhaella Targaryen,_

_Queen Grandmother of the Seven Kingdoms._

 

Jaehaerys finally felt a teardrop fall on the letter. He looked at the heart tree, its weeping face. _Does it cry with me or for me?_ He would now be leaving Winterfell to ascend his family’s throne as the newest monarch of the Targaryen dynasty becoming the nineteenth Targaryen King of Westeros. His shoulders already felt heavier. _Am I mourning for my departed love ones, the life that is now gone or the fear of what is to come?_ King Jaehaerys had no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language so forgive any mistakes and I would appreciate if they were politely pointed out, thank you. 
> 
> The letter by Rhaella to Jon was influenced by Queen Mary's letter to Queen Elizabeth II from 'The Crown', one of my favourite shows. Some lines are very similar but the letter was too damn good.
> 
> Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought and whether I should continue with the story. Leave a kudos if you enjoyed the story. (I sound like a youtuber, like, subscribe, comment).


	2. The Royal Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Catelyn discuss their children, preparations are made for the departure from Winterfell and the Queen Grandmother lays down the law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the response in the last chapter! It really made me happy to see people enjoying the story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos and subscribed. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**The Warden of the North**

Ned Stark prided himself on tolerating the cold more than other men could. It was his Northern blood that enabled this _._  So, he was somewhat surprised by the warmth the day was permitting. _Perhaps that was a sign? A sign of good luck for the new King._

 

 _New King_. He still had not processed it himself, he wondered how Jon would ever process it.

 

 _Jon._ He was barely a man, yet he now held the most powerful position on this continent. A second son never meant for the throne yet here he was. _Like myself with Winterfell_. He was never meant to be Lord of Winterfell, but the gods decided otherwise. Now they had made their will known again.

 

Ned slowly made his way down the stairs into the cool crypts. Walking past Starks that had gone on to the next world. Passing his father and brother, he stopped when he reached his destination. He placed the winter rose in her hand as he was accustomed to do every time he entered the crypts.

 

Taking a deep breath, the Lord of Winterfell reflected on events that had just occurred. He had just told his nephew that he was now an orphan. _The most powerful orphan in the world_ _but an orphan nonetheless_. He never thought the day would come when Lyanna’s child, his sister’s offspring, would be the monarch. _In hindsight, if I am honest with myself, I never expected her to be with child_. _However, she always was apt at surprising one._

 

Though Arya reminded Ned Stark of Lyanna, there were big differences between the two. _For one, Lyanna fell in love and gave herself to a man, a feat he **cannot** see Arya doing. _ _Lyanna loved riding and playing with a sword but she did not resist the feminine aspects of her life that she had to follow as much as Arya. Wearing a dress for example. There was certainly resentment but nowhere near the degree Arya experiences._

 

 _Alas, reminiscing will not help Jon._ Ned could relate to Jon’s predicament, albeit on a smaller scale. _Losing loved ones, being thrust into a position of power and having people depend on you. Barely having time to process losing said loved ones because you have to appear held together and conduct oneself with a strong front._ He would aid Jon in any way he could. _Just as I promised Lyanna._

 

“Your son is about to embark on the biggest endeavour of his life, sister. I hope he is strong enough to see it through.” Ned wondered how his sister would have reacted had she been alive.  _She should be alive to watch her son grow into a fine man._ "I think he may be the only King who actually deserves to sit on the throne in generations."

 

He wondered if Jon had read his letter by now and hoped it brought him some peace of mind or a sense of comfort. The Queen Mother, _Queen Grandmother now, I suppose_ , had written to himself as well. She had asked for Jon to be sent to King’s Landing with extra security now that he was, to put it bluntly, more important. She also wished for some of his children to go with Jon to the capital so that he would not feel alone. He, himself, would be travelling south closer to the coronation of his royal nephew.

 

"I must bid you farewell, I must see to your son's departure." He started making his way up, thinking which children should accompany Jon. Robb was an obvious, _he and Jon are brothers in all but name._ The Queen Grandmother had personally requested for Sansa. She would do well in the south, a natural lady like her. She would be serving as a lady for one of the princesses. Truth is, all of his children would want to go. Bran, because the south is filled with knights, especially the legendary Kingsguard. Ned knew Arya would have no care about the south, but she would simply want to go because Jon was leaving. He sighed, before he could decide he thought he ought to discuss this with his wife first. Inevitably, she won’t like any of her children leaving. _Nevertheless, she cannot treat them like children her entire life and this would be a great opportunity for them._

 

As if reading his thoughts, his lady wife emerged from the keep. She wore a sombre expression and looked weary as she approached him. “Ned, how is Jon?” the enquiry was raised once she stopped before him in the courtyard.

 

Taking a deep breath, he responded, “I think he needs time, he wanted privacy when reading his letter from Queen Rhaella.”

 

“Poor boy, to lose and gain so much all in one day is difficult enough for some of the greatest of men, never mind a boy of 17 name-days.” His wife continued, “Speaking of the Queen Grandmother, Jon managed to escape a regency otherwise Queen Rhaella would have been named his regent. However, Jon being the King will not curb her influence. In fact, her influence has grown now that she has a grandson who was never groomed to assume the throne. We all saw her change after the Mad King’s death. She no longer needed to play the role of docile wife when her son assumed the throne, everyone underestimated her.”

 

He listened to the words of his wife and couldn’t help but incline his head in agreeance. Talk of Rhaella Targaryen had even made it North after the Mad King fell. How she no longer cowered and had gained confidence. Her influence in court was greater than that of Rhaegar’s wives. He realised now that people should have known better and considered that a woman who spent her entire life in King’s Landing would know exactly how to behave to survive.

 

“I needed to speak with you about Jon’s journey south, I wish for the children to go with him,” Ned explained.

 

As he expected, his wife’s face fell. He hoped she, being from the south, would recognise the importance of his children attending court. _I hate the thought of any Stark in that nest of vipers, but I won’t leave Jon alone, unsupported. He needs an opportunity to consolidate his power_

 

“I did not ever think you would want anything to do with King’s Landing.”

 

“Aye, I would not if Jon was not going but I do not want him to be alone and they would be stronger together. The pack. Robb and Jon are as thick as thieves, Sansa will serve as a lady-in-waiting to one of the princesses, Bran could squire for one of the Kingsguard and Arya can be taught how to become a proper lady; being surrounded by the women of the south.” _I highly doubt the latter but that is not a thought I am willing to share with Cat. She still thinks it is possible and I would not be the one to shatter that allusion._ The Warden of the North observed his wife thinking the matter over. He continued, “Rickon would stay here of course, he is too young. Robb and maybe Arya, depending on how she adjusts, would only be in the south temporarily. You and I will go south for the coronation and return North with Robb after it is over, he cannot stay away for long, his place is here.” Watching his wife, he waited for a response. It was not necessary for Ned to even ask his wife’s consent, but he did not want to make decisions regarding his children without her input, they were her children as well after all. His own lord father had often sought the council of his late mother, Lady Lyarra, when she was alive; and not just matters regarding himself and his brothers and sister but issues related to the running of The North too.

 

“The children could also meet their cousin Alyssa and she can become acquainted with her Stark relatives.” A part of Ned longed to see Lyanna’s daughter himself, Jon's twin. He had never set eyes upon her except once all those many years ago at the tower.

 

Catelyn exhaled and finally gave her answer “Alright, I agree. This could be good for them, but I have conditions. Septa Mordane must go with them so the girls do not fall behind with their lessons and what about their wolves?” Truth be told, Ned had forgotten about them. Jon would be taking Ghost with him, so he did not believe his children taking their direwolves with them would be a problem too. They were well behaved and what better protection than them?

 

“That should not be a problem,” was all Ned’s reply. “I have already informed Lord Tallhart to send a retinue over so they can join mine and Jon’s men on the journey south. I also sent a raven to Lord Manderly and he will be sending men who will meet with the party when they head south. A retinue of over 200 strong will escort them and I presume more people will join them on their track to the capital.”

 

“What about the Greyjoy boy? Will he be going south? He has never gotten along with Jon. Always looking down at him because he was a second son who would not inherit anything. Ironic now.” Ned prided on reading his wife well and he could see the tiny part of her that wished for him to go. It was no secret Catelyn disliked the boy’s vulgarity and arrogance.

 

“I have given that some consideration and I will be sending him too. He is good friends with Robb and he is amicable enough with Jon, but it should be fine if Theon was a ward of the crown. I would just have to write to the Hand to inform him.” _Not to mention it would be good for the heir of the Iron Islands to publicly swear allegiance to Jon at the coronation._

 

Catelyn nodded her head in agreement. “I informed the children about the situation, Arya wanted to see Jon, but I convinced her to give him some time. Though I allowed Robb on his way to see him as I came here though. I believe a friend and brother is what Jon needs now. It was difficult to explain to the children that Jon was no longer just their cousin, but he was now also their King.”

 

“Aye, I hope they all manage to get through this for it will not be easy.” _For I am struggling myself._

 

* * *

**The Heir to Winterfell**

The godswood was eerily quiet as he entered and searched for his cousin. His mother had informed him that the King and Crown Prince had perished and what that now meant. His cousin, a brother, was now his King.

 

Robb had never lost anyone. His family had suffered losses, but he had never personally experienced the loss of someone. This is why he tried to find the right words on the walk here but came up with nothing.

 

He paused once he spotted Jon sitting under the weirwood tree with Ghost faithfully beside him. The direwolf was watching his master who had a letter in his hand.

 

“What have you got there?” _Did I really just initiate the conversation with that. Well done Robb._

 

Jon looked up and smiled when he saw him,  _well that is reassuring_. “Just a letter,” Jon mumbled as Robb sat next to him. Ghost approached the heir to Winterfell and prodded his arm with his nose, Robb distractedly began scratching the wolf behind his ear.

 

“Did you finish cleaning the kitchen?” his cousin asked whilst maintaining his gaze upon the black pool.

 

“Aye, Arya and Bran were besides themselves that you managed to get out of it,” Robb quipped, attempting to cheer his cousin up but to no avail. _Maybe not beating around the bush would be better._

“I am sorry about your father and brother, Jon,” Robb adopted a serious tone, trying to make eye contact with his cousin.

 

He did not receive a reply for a few beats, allowing the silence between them to linger and giving Jon all the time he needed. Finally, the response came, “Thank you. I do not really know what to do with myself. I mean, I know I must prepare to depart Winterfell, but I cannot bring myself to do it because then………then it all becomes real,” Jon concluded morosely.

 

“You are not alone in this you know. You have all of us and your family in King’s Landing. You are not going into this blind. You have our support.” Robb squeezed Jon’s shoulder in reassuring manner. “Your Grace,” he added with a smirk.

 

“Shut up” he laughed, pushing Robb.  _Progress_. “But thank you, it means a lot to know I have you by my side.”

 

Robb smiled, “How about I knock your royal arse into the dirt? That will make you feel better.”

 

Jon scoffed, “Please Stark, I always win but yes, crushing you in a sparring match would alleviate matters.” With that, the two stood and made their way to the training ground. Robb mentally pleased with himself for at least being able to distract Jon from what was to come.

 

* * *

 

 

It was four days later that they were packed and ready to leave Winterfell. They were all in the courtyard bidding their farewells.

 

“I want you to look after your brother and sisters, Robb, to ensure they do not get into trouble, they maintain their studies. Keep an eye on Theon. I know he is your friend, but he is still a ward and you must never forget this.”

 

He nodded “I will father, and I will watch him.”

 

“Also, do not forget that Jon is now your King and you, as well as your siblings, must treat him as such, you cannot be too familiar with him in public. We do not want to be accused of receiving preferential treatment, comport yourself with dignity and never forget that you are a Stark of Winterfell and you are always representing House Stark, do you understand?”

 

“Yes father.” His father then embraced him, and he returned the gesture. He moved onto his mother, extending his farewells to her.

 

After his mother lectured and embraced him, Robb spotted Jon coming out of the crypts, presumably saying his goodbye to his mother. He walked straight to his father and they both spoke softly to one another.

 

After his siblings had bid farewell to their parents and the other occupants of Winterfell, Robb and Jon saddled their horses whilst Sansa, the female servants and Septa Mordane sat in the wheelhouse and made for the gateway. After much insistence, Arya was allowed to ride alongside them. Robb caught Jon taking one last long look at Winterfell before kicking his horse. Ser Jaime Lannister riding behind Jon with their Targaryen, Stark and Tallhart guards. Heading in the direction of the south.

 

_To King’s Landing._

 

* * *

 

**The Dragon Queen**

 

She stood on her balcony, overlooking the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, taking a moment to absorb the change of events. Watching the ships at the harbour arriving and leaving, the people carrying out their day-to-day tasks. _My beloved son is gone_. _He has departed this world._ She had warned him the pirates were trouble. That he should have dealt with them first before diverting his attention on other state matters, but he had dismissed her concerns.

 

Now he was gone and had taken Aegon with him. Closing her eyes, her mind wandered to her second grandson. _Poor Jaehaerys, a second born son who probably believed the most he would ever inherit was Summerhall. Another decision I did not agree with Rhaegar regarding - rebuilding that accursed castle that had been the start of her misery._ But as the good dutiful subject, she kept quiet and decided against arguing with her King’s decision.  _Not that he would have listened even if I had_. _Rhaegar had had that look in his eye when he was fixated on something and would not be persuaded otherwise._

 

Exhaling, she opened her eyes and pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. _Now is not the time to think about this. What happened is now in the past and all we can do is move forward._

 

Queen Rhaella re-entered her chamber and called for her ladies, “I need you to help me dress for the day.” They curtsied and went about their separate tasks.

 

“Your grace, is it true? Everyone is talking about the King and Crown Prince, saying they’re dead,” it was Lady Sylvina Waynwood. She was always the more outspoken of all her ladies. She must have inherited it from her mother. Before she could respond the bells started tolling. _Good_. She had ordered for them to begin ringing to signal the start of the mourning period.

 

“I think that answers your question,” the lady flushed and resumed her task. A long black dress was brought out, a gift from the wife of the Sealord of Bravos. She refused to wear the same dress she wore at her late husband’s funeral. _I am actually in mourning now unlike then where I merely conducted the role of a bereaved widow._

 

“A simple braid will do and, Yyns dear, will you get my diadem with the black obsidians.” Lady Yyns Yronwood curtsied and obeyed. Once she was ready and looked appropriate with her rope braids tied in a bun, adorning her black dress with a black necklace and finished with her diadem placed on top of her head, she went about to start her duties. Rhaella, no matter the circumstance, never abandoned her duty. This had been drilled into her by her queenly grandmother and mother.

 

However, today the duties would consist of a different kind than the regular. “Lady Sylvina, are the rest of my family all in the Queen’s Ballroom?” she enquired. _First task would be dealing with them and ensuring they all know their roles and place._

 

“Yes, your Grace.”

 

With the bells still tolling in the distance, the Queen Grandmother stood and left her chamber, making her way to the ballroom, flanked by her other ladies and Ser Hightower. As she walked the hallways, those she passed bowed and curtsied. Word had spread fast because everyone except the guards were all in their mourning clothes. _I bet they all scrambled to dress in their mourning clothes, thinking to win some favour and that I would be pleased to see them in such. Leeches._

 

After the acolyte had transcribed the letters she had promptly dismissed him. Weeping until her eyes had been red. Tears of mourning and anger combined. _Mourning for the son and grandson I will never see again. Anger at her son for failing to heed her advice, not only losing his own life in the process but taking her grandson with him._

 

As she approached the doors, the guards on duty bowed and opened them for her. She made her way into the room with her ladies. The White Bull took up his post on the side, standing next to the Bold and the Sword of the Morning. She was quietly thankful Arthur Dayne had not gone with her son for her grandson would need a strong Kingsguard around him. _Jaehaerys now needs to find two new men to replace Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell, two good men who had also perished with their King._

 

She stopped and appraised her family in front of her, all of them bowing and curtsying to her, all wearing black. Her second son Viserys stood tall with his hair tied in a knot, her eldest granddaughter Rhaenys had red-rimmed eyes, _poor girl must have been crying profusely._ Her middle granddaughter Alyssa stood next to Rhaenys. _The girl has lost her father as well as her mother now, Jaehaerys' twin._ Her youngest granddaughter Visenya and her youngest grandson Daeron were standing side-by-side, both probably did not have true understanding that their father was gone, _certainly Daeron does not_. Her beautiful daughter, Daenerys, was dressed in a modest outfit. She looked radiant even in simple attire. Then there was his late son’s wives, Elia Martell and Cersei Lannister.

 

Elia looked particularly bereaved, though the Queen Grandmother believed that was more to do with Aegon rather than Rhaegar. _I do not blame her after everything that has happened_. Any love her first good-daughter had for Rhaegar most likely died the day he married Cersei, _a second betrayal_. Rhaella had witnessed, in person, the first betrayal Elia felt when she found out Rhaegar had wed Lyanna Stark but then the northern lady had died. _Tis harder to be angry at someone if they are not here to vent at._ However, Rhaegar returned to the capital after defeating the usurper on the Trident and was asked to marry Cersei by her father. He’d initially refused but after discovering Lyanna to be dead and Jon Connington bringing up the argument that a man could never have too many heirs (the fact that Elia was proven to no longer be capable of bearing children was implied too) he eventually, begrudgingly, agreed. The issue also remained that Rhaegar owed a debt to Tywin for the disposal of the wildfire, the alternative being the loss of the entirety of King’s Landing and all of Rhaegar’s family.

 

Rhaella thought back to that horrible day. She knew her son had intended to remove Aerys from the throne, but his personal desires had ruined the plan. She had waited in King’s Landing, after Rhaegar’s victory, for him to return and deal with his father but Aerys was even madder than she realised when she discovered, from Lord Varys, that there were caches of wildfire under the city. Aerys had to be dealt with immediately and Tywin Lannister chose that moment to arrive to make matters worse. _The lion had finally roused and chosen a side._

 

Her husband allowed him access into the city and ordered for his army to reside at the Dragonpit, but the lunatic had an ulterior motive, planning to burn Tywin and his army alive. He feasted Tywin, wanting to play with him before finishing him off with the wildfire. However, Rhaella knew how uncontrollable wildfire was, the wildfire would not be limited to the Dragonpit and could spread throughout the entire city, killing them in the process. _Aerys believed he could control the flames, but the man could not even control his manhood, needing wildfire for that too._ When Tywin had returned to his men at the Dragonpit, Aerys gave the order. The Lannister boy intervened, killing the pyromancers. Unfortunately, Aerys lost his life in the struggle. ‘Kingslayer’, the unfortunate nickname the Lannister boy was labelled for taking her husband’s life whilst killing the pyromancers, putting an end to the plans of a madman.

 

Tywin had asked for Rhaegar to marry Cersei, even being presumptuous enough to call for Cersei beforehand, once he had returned and received the news that Lyanna had died. Rhaegar was reluctant but after assurances to Dorne that Aegon would remain the heir, he consented.

 

Rhaella laughed internally, remembering Tywin and Cersei’s faces when Jaehaerys had been brought from Dorne. They were surely hoping there would only be one boy standing between them and the throne. Tywin could hardly withdraw his offer after arguing for it so long and had to settle by swallowing his fury instead.

 

“I am glad you are all here. Rhaegar and Aegon’s bodies will be arriving shortly and they will be taken to the Sept of Bealor. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan have volunteered to stand vigil,” Rhaella explained. She gestured to the two knights, making sure to watch every face with what she said next.

 

“Jaehaerys should be leaving the North soon. The funeral will not take place until the new King arrives.” Her first good-daughter swallowed but otherwise kept a blank face.  _Keep an eye on her_. Viserys’ nostrils flared before he composed himself and inclined his head.  _I need to have a word with him_. Cersei painted a smile on her face that looked as if she was in severe pain.  _Eye on her too_. Her youngest grandchild just had a child-like grin on his face. Her youngest granddaughter kept a neutral face. Daenerys was indifferent, she had not gained the opportunity to get to know Jaehaerys too well. Only seeing him when he visited the south. It was his eldest granddaughters who were most happy to hear this news. Alyssa’s face lighting up whilst Rhaenys gave a teary smile.

 

The Queen Grandmother was about to continue when the Lioness spoke up.  _Ah, I was wondering why she had not thrown her irrelevant opinion in_. “Is not the boy too wild and inexperienced?” When Rhaella glared at Cersei, the latter quickly continued on to sweeten her words, “I only just mean that he has spent a large portion of his life in the North, so he does not really know the ways of the south, I say this for my concern for the realm, Your Grace.”

 

Elia’s face morphed into the expression she automatically made whenever Cersei spoke, as if she had tasted something sour. The others watched her; waiting for her to respond. “Is the North not part of the realm?” Cersei opened her mouth to respond but Rhaella cut her off “If you were so ‘experienced’ you would know the rules of the line of succession for this realm you are so ‘concerned’ about. That the age of the heir is irrelevant. Jaehaerys is rightfully the next King, Daeron is  **after**  him. Regardless, your primary concern should be the wellbeing and upbringing of your children, Cersei, focus on them. Also, I expect you to address Jaehaerys by his proper title, ‘His Grace’, now you may leave.” An inexperienced individual would think Cersei was unaffected by her words but Rhaella had been in King’s Landing her entire life and knew what to look for. The subtle flare in the eyes, the stiffening of one’s posture. Rhaella held her ground and stared her down. _She is clever enough not to further deepen the hole she has dug for herself._ In the end Cersei broke eye contact first, inclined her head, curtsied, motioned for Daeron and Visenya to follow her and whisked out of the room, not looking back.  _Dreadful woman_. _She lacks the cunningness of her mother._

 

“I assume you all know the proper way to address His Grace?” Rhaella asked no one in particular. “The King will be arriving with members of House Stark. I requested Lord Stark’s eldest daughter to be sent but he may very well send others. She will be one of your ladies Daenerys. You are both closer to age so I deemed it appropriate.”

 

Her daughter smiled and nodded, “Yes, mother.”

 

“Treat her kindly, she will be a long way from her home and without her parents.” Daenerys nodded her head again.

 

“Lords and ladies will be arriving, and I expect the appropriate protocols to be carried out. That is all.” The women curtsied and made for the exit. Viserys inclined his head and was about to leave before she grabbed his arm. “All of you, give us the room.”

 

The Kingsguard and her ladies all made their way outside the room. She waited to hear the door close before she spoke.  _Better to curb his attitude now and nip it in the bud before it festers._

 

Queen Rhaella whispered furiously, “what did we speak about before?”

 

“We speak about a lot of things mother,” Viserys replied impertinently. _Her son was asking for a beating._

“Do not be coy, it does not befit you. I am talking about your responsibility to your family and your incessant whining about how unfair your life is. I cannot fathom this ridiculous notion you have that you are superior than your nephews and nieces. That you think you are better suited to rule because your father kept you close over your brother.” Viserys was not a cruel man. When he was younger he would have bouts of rage which would worry Rhaella extensively for they often reminded her of her late husband. _The signs were all there but we all ignored them. Myself, mother, father. All of us. Never again, I vowed._ Rhaella had quickly intervened. Encouraging her son to train in the yard as an outlet for his anger, teaching him the importance of loyalty to his family. “Do you want to be a Maegor the Cruel reborn?”

 

She could tell she’d struck a nerve.  _Good, at least the notion of becoming like Maegor frightens him. He needed to hear this. The sooner he wakes up the better._

 

“Maegor who is reviled in history by all the people, lords and our own house as a tyrannical usurper. Or do you want to be like the Spring Prince, Baelon the Brave, who was always loyal to his brother Prince Aemon; or Viserys II, who served his brother faithfully?” Not waiting for an answer, Rhaella continued, “Do you know how unflattering you look behaving like an entitled brat. You know when you act like this I am tempted to call for the septa and have you sent to your room without your supper.”

 

Viserys hung his head.  _At least he has the decency to look ashamed_.

 

“You are not superior to your nephews and nieces, you are all the same. Children of House Targaryen with the blood of Old Valyria running through your veins. Your parents may have both been Targaryens but that does  **not**  make you better, in fact, there are people out there who would argue the opposite. Do not forget you and I descend from non-Targaryen blood too. Or do you need to attend lessons with the Grand Maester again? Do not also forget our House’s history and how overstepping uncles ended.” _For I would lose a part of myself if you were to end the way some of our power-hungry ancestors did._

 

Her son looked ashamed. “No, I remember my lessons,” came the quiet response but filled with regret. “I am sorry.”

 

She adopted a gentler tone of voice, “I am not saying this to be cruel, I am saying this for your own good. The fact is Viserys, you will **never** be King. You can either cry about it or you can accept the fate the gods decided for you and move on. Your brother is gone and now Jaehaerys will need our help. You should be protecting and helping your family not working against them. Princes in your position in the past have accepted what they had and flourished. What matters most is the family, **the dynasty** , not yourself.”

 

Viserys nodded. “I understand, I am sorry for my behaviour. I will try harder and I will aid Jaehaerys in any way I can. I promise.” Rhaella searched his eyes and was pleased with what she found.

 

“Good, I shielded your father’s cruelty from you and perhaps I was wrong in doing that, but he was cruel man and an awful King in the end. He is not a role model. Being royalty is not a right but a privilege. That privilege comes with the responsibility to care for our people. The family will need your help more than ever.” He looked into her eyes and nodded his head. She smiled, “Now go and continue with your training.”

 

He bowed and made his exit. _I can only hope I have gotten through to him._

 

Interrupted by a knock on the door, the Queen Grandmother turned to face the entrance to the ballroom and called for whomever to enter.

 

A page entered the room and bowed. “Your grace, the small council are convening.”

 

 _Ah, next order of business._ “Very well.” She made her way through the Red Keep, followed by her Kingsguard, until she reached her destination.

 

On her approach, the guards outside the room bowed and opened the door. “Her Grace, the Queen Grandmother.”

 

She paused outside the chamber before entering. Queen Rhaella had only ever attended council meetings when Rhaegar and Aegon were absent from the city and even then, she could count the amount of times on one hand. The Hand would often just inform her of the events in her private study. _I am capable_. _I have watched my grandfather, father, husband and son rule._

 

Entering the chamber, the lords all stood up from their seats and bowed with a collective greeting “Your Grace.” Many looked confused as to why she was present; others were not surprised.

 

Queen Rhaella sat at the head of the table, as Ser Gerold took his place as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She took in the council members: Jon Connington, the Hand of the King; Tywin Lannister, Master of Coin; Paxter Redwyne, Master of Ships; Stannis Baratheon, Master of Laws; Lord Varys, Master of Whispers; Ser Alliser Thorne, Commander of the City Watch and Oberyn Martell.  _What was even the Dornish Prince’s position? Advisor? A means to make Dorne feel important? Whatever it was, here he sat._

She motioned for the lords to take their seats before beginning, “My lords, until the arrival of the new King, I will be overseeing things. When the King arrives, he will decide the situation of his council, whether he wishes to retain the council his father formed or dissolve it and establish a new one for the new regime.”  _It is good to remind them their positions are not a permanent fixture. We do not want them becoming complacent._

 

Rhaella had spent her childhood and life as a married woman hiding from the gaze of other men. Always keeping her head lowered, she would simply carry out her duties; nothing ever more. So, now with amusement it was extremely liberating to wield power over these powerful lords. Tywin Lannister had the same look on his face that had been plastered there ever since she first met him.  _Watch him like a hawk. He is likely happy there is one less heir between Daeron and the throne._  Lord Varys looked amused, as if he were irreplaceable and she were joking. Lord Redwyne swallowed whilst Alliser Thorne was wringing his hands. Lord Connington had his eyes downcast but she did not think it was from what she said but the recent loss they had suffered,  _the man held ‘affections’ for Rhaegar._  Stannis Baratheon was grinding his teeth,  _I wonder about the day he will crack one_. It was Oberyn Martell she was interested in. His face impassive. If she had not known his mother, that face would remain a mystery. However, she knew that look. _Outrage_. _Outrage that Martell blood will not sit the throne. Yes, he and Elia would naturally be two of the most affronted individuals regarding Jaehaerys’ ascension. Lannisters and Martells, we must be cautious of them._   

 

With bells still ringing, Queen Rhaella addressed the room. “So, shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch the Downton Abbey reference in there? 
> 
> If you're interested this was the dress, hairstyle and diadem I had in mind for what Rhaella was wearing. 
> 
> The Dress - https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwiE0PqZmcfbAhXH7BQKHeAtBgkQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.aliexpress.com%2Fitem%2FBlack-Medieval-Dress-Princess-Southern-Belle-Costume-Ball-Gown-Gothic-Lolita-Dress-Adult-Women-Party-Evening%2F32802110278.html&psig=AOvVaw2eObyf3SaH_D-LXcqUobL_&ust=1528654844339223
> 
> The Hairstyle - https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwiU1caVmsfbAhUG1hQKHQFeCvQQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Fmissysue.com%2F2014%2F11%2Ffishtail-and-dutch-braid-messy-bun%2F&psig=AOvVaw3POpAxK8C4cZKYsxdd9-y4&ust=1528655014463852
> 
> The Diadem - https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwjemLf2msfbAhWEVBQKHcQMBkMQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.etsy.com%2Fca%2Flisting%2F496654472%2Fblack-crown-red-crown-bridal-crown&psig=AOvVaw0cNeVQxkffJRDWXJxqT7Mq&ust=1528655291908509
> 
> Please leave a comment because it really motivates me and I love conversing with readers. Leave a kudos if you enjoyed the story!


	3. Wolves in the south

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Royal party arrives in the capital, the King is reunited with his family and Jon is given a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos on the last chapter! It means a lot to me.
> 
> Not much to say except I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**The Disgraced Knight**

_A near moon’s turn._ That’s how long they had been travelling. Jaime was not one to complain, complaining was for the weak and incompetent, but he was thankful they were nearly at King’s Landing. _It has been an interesting journey to say the least._

His mind went back to when they had reached Moat Cailin where they had met up with the Manderly men who were to join the escort south. They had been led by Ser Wylis Manderly, the heir to White Harbour, and Ser Wendel Manderly, the heir’s brother.  

 

Upon approaching the party, the men of White Harbour had all fallen to one knee and drawn their swords. Wylis Manderly, who had made it a point to kneel a little ahead of his brother, had spoken first.

 

“My King, it is an honour to join you in your journey to the capital. My father sends his regards and wished me to inform you he would be meeting you at the coronation.”

 

Jon, _nay the King now,_ had planted his ‘royal’ face on. Jaime could not help but think the King looked remarkably like his father with the expression.

 

“Rise.”

 

The men all rose at once and replaced their swords in their sheaths. “Thank you for joining us, My Lord. I appreciate your efforts. I mean to be frank, I wish for us to journey as fast as possible as I wish to reach King’s Landing as soon as can be. I know you will understand."

 

“Of course, Your Grace. My men are well rested so we should be able to make good on time.”

 

They **had** made good on their time and had reached The Twins relatively quickly. Lord Walder Frey, _man who should have died long ago,_ had invited the royal retinue to reside at the castle and rest. Jaime thought the King would accept. However, his King had refused. _Maybe he is more aware of the disposition of certain lords._

 

On his part, Walder Frey had tried to persuade the King to stay, more for the prestige it would bring rather than out of a sense of loyalty. The Old lord even thought that pointing out that he had named one of his many sons after the King’s father would garner him favour. Alas, the King was uninterested. They had instead opted to reside in their tents.

 

Ser Jaime was on duty whilst the King sharpened his sword.

 

“Cheer up, you have become as stoic as your uncle Stark.”

 

The King did not respond for a while and when he did it, it was totally unrelated.

 

“What if I am a rubbish King?”

 

 _How long had that been on his mind?_ “You cannot be any worse than your grandfather.”

 

That had not been the right answer for Jaehaerys just gave a half-hearted smile before resuming with his sword sharpening.  _He really is worried._

 

“I'm sorry, it was bad joke,” Jaime stated seriously, this time.

 

“I was never taught how to rule. The most I know is how to run a castle, never a realm. Now, I am expected to rule Seven Kingdoms, two dominions and become the head of my family. How can I possibly live up to my ancestors' name?” The King placed his sword on the ground and walked to the entrance of the tent, watching outside as some men were gathered around fires, cooking, drinking and joking with one another. Others were on duty, patrolling the campsite. 

 

Ser Jaime walked to stand next to his charge, “permission to speak frankly, Your Grace?”

 

Jon silently nodded.

 

The Kingsguard turned to face his King before speaking, “I think you need to pull yourself together. Your reign has just begun and you are already being so hard on yourself. I have watched you most of your life. You are a brilliant fighter, better than I was at your age.”

 

“Being a good fighter does not ensure someone will be a great King,” Jaehaerys responded bluntly.

 

“As I was saying before being interrupted, you are a damn good fighter, you are already popular within the North, a kingdom notorious for isolating themselves, so you already have a win there. You are intelligent and most importantly, you care about how you will fare as King. The fact that you are questioning whether you will be a good King means you care and it is a great sign. More than many of your predecessors surely had done. I am sure your grandfather King Aerys, Aegon the Unworthy or Maegor the Cruel did not ask that. Do you think you are the first King to ascend the throne who was not prepared to do so? Aegon the Unlikely, Viserys II, King Maekar and even your namesake Jaehaerys the Conciliator were never intended to be King but they became them nevertheless and were damn good at it. They knew they were not alone, they had their family and loyal advisors to support them. You are not alone and in time, you will learn and develop."

 

Taking a breath, Ser Jaime continued, “I have told you before how I never wanted to be the heir to Casterly Rock, how I never cared for ruling. Even when my father asked your father to release me from my vows, I refused. My father was furious but I do not regret my decision. One of those reasons is my brother Tyrion. He was never destined to be the heir but I know for a fact that he would make a damn great ruler of the Westerlands than I could ever dream of being. My point being that sometimes those who are born for power are not meant for it. Your brother being one. No disrespect, Your Grace, but the Crown Prince loved two things, fighting and women. I would not be surprised if he did not have two or three bastards that were hidden away by Queen Elia. Sometimes those not meant for power are the best ones to wield it and I truly believe you are one of those.”

 

There was silence after he finished speaking. _Did I say the right things?_   “Well, Ser Jaime, I did not know you were so wise. If this Kingsguard thing does not work out then you would make an excellent septon.”

 

Jaime scoffed, “Please, you would be lost without me. Now do we need to hug like two little girls or is the King appeased and ready for me to knock his royal arse to the dirt?”

 

The King laughed, and went to retrieve his sword. Before he left the tent, he paused at the entrance and turned to face him, "Thank you. For you words of reassurance."

 

Jaime felt a bit awkward from the praise. A foreign feeling he was not quite used to emerging. _A sense of pride._  He inclined his head all the same. "Do not mention it, Your Grace. Tis my duty to provide you with counsel as well as my sword." 

 

With that, the King and his Kingsguard exited the tent, both having lifted the spirits of one another.

 

* * *

  

The royal party travelled closer to the capital; passing The Trident, where King Rhaegar defeated the usurper, Robert Baratheon; the monstrosity of Harrenhal, where Jaime had been named a member of the Kingsguard. They had stopped at the Isle of Faces, where the King’s mother and father had wed. 

 

It was when they entered the Crownlands that Jaime began to think of **her** _._ It was easier to push her out of his mind when he was far away from the capital but now it became more difficult as the party drew closer to King's Landing.

 

He still remembered the last time he had spoken with his sister.

 

“You cannot go to that grey waste with that bastard. You belong here with me, protecting me.” 

 

“And watch you with the King every day. You want me to stand aside guarding your chamber door whilst he is in there with you? While you prance around with the King? No." She had cornered him in his chamber at the White Sword Tower. King Rhaegar had just informed him that he would be going to Winterfell with Jaehaerys.

 

“You joined the Kingsguard to be with me and now that our plan has worked, you are abandoning me.” She looked to almost be crying but Jaime knew her long enough to know when she was playing an act.  _Not this time._

 

“I am not abandoning anyone, I am simply doing my duty.” As much as it was difficult, he attempted to ignore her presence and continued with packing his things. 

 

“What about your duty to me?!” She had gripped his arm and forced him to face her. When he looked upon her face he saw her nervously biting her lip.  _Something she would do when she was scared._

 

“The King has ordered I go with the prince and act as his sworn shield. There is nothing else to do." Freeing himself from her grasp, Jaime walked away to resume his task of packing.

 

“This has got that conniving bitch’s name all over it. That cunt. The Queen Mother. I bet she has whispered in Rhaegar’s ear again.”

 

Jaime ignored her and continued packing. In actuality, King Rhaegar **had** been persuaded to send Jaime north, but it was not the Queen Mother who was responsible for the persuading but another. 

 

Cersei suddenly let out a small laugh causing Jaime to turn around to look at his sister, “No, this is actually a good thing. Yes, this is good. You will be able to do your duty for our family there in that frozen wasteland."

 

“What are you talking about?” Drawing his eyebrows into confusion, Jaime wondered if Cersei was losing her sanity.  _It is the only explanation for her behaviour. To transition from raging to glee all in a matter of minutes._

 

“You can finally get rid of the Stark bitch’s spawn on the way. He can suffer an unfortunate ‘accident’ and we will be free of him. One less heir standing in the way. Yes, this is brilliant in fact. The Queen Mother has aided us in killing her own grandson. It is what the cunt deserves for ordering me, The Queen, around!” Cersei had a huge beam plastered on her face. Her eyes wide with anticipation. Witnessing his sister made Jaime recall something their brother had once said regarding a book he had been reading about the bastards of Aegon the Unworthy. 'Beauty can be deceiving, brother. Looking at it from afar can be appealing and harmless. However, occasionally if one gets too close the beauty will diminish and one can see the true ugliness and flaws inside. The toxicity that can corrupt one."

 

“No.”

 

Cersei's face fell, replaced with a venomous scowl. “What do you mean no?” in a manner where it was plain to see that it pained her to remain so calm.

 

“I mean I will not kill a member of the royal family for you.” He did not even bother looking up at her as he turned around to walk to the other side of the room. Rather to gain some distance from his sister than an actual need to collect something to pack.

 

“Why? It would not be the first time; you have done it before, a King no less."

 

When Jaime did not dignify to respond, just as anticipated, Cersei lost her temper. “What use are you then? You are worthless. Just another useless man only good with a sword.” Continuing to ignore her, Jaime pretended as if he was searching for things to pack. Taking his silence as a sign to continue, his sister approached him and did not stop.

 

"A spineless man, good for nothing except his cock, even then you lack in that department compared to my Rhaegar.”

 

Jaime realised it was too late to stop himself. For he had already spun around and felt a pain shoot up his hand. His sister's head flung to the side. She raised her hand to her cheek but it did nothing to conceal the redness that began to emerge. They both just stared at one another, Cersei holding her red cheek with her hand. An apology was on the edge of Jaime’s tongue when she spoke again.

 

“I hope you perish in that frozen wasteland. You are dead to me.” With that, she picked up her skirts and left the room without a backward glance. As the new sense of self-loathing and regret for backhanding his sister and lover settled in Jaime, which would remain with him for the days to come, he understood at that moment what Tyrion had meant all that time ago. 

 

Breaking out of his thoughts when they neared King’s Landing, the conflict that had been repressed by the Northern snows of the North arose.  _Self-loathing, regret and the desire to repair his heart with the only tonic he knew - reconciling with his love._ Ser Jaime Lannister realised in that moment that he missed the cold of the North and it's power to freeze his feelings and heart.

 

* * *

 

**The Red Wolf**

_King’s Landing_. They had finally made it. She was finally in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. The city of the King. _Jon’s city._

 

Looking through the window of the wheelhouse, Sansa Stark drank in the sight of the city as they rode through the Dragon Gate.

 

The first thing that immediately caught her attention was the ruins that stood upon the hill in front of them. Sansa had extensively studied the south, in particular the capital and knew what the ruins were and the hill upon which it stood.

 

 _The Dragonpit which sits upon Rhaenys’ Hill._ The latter named for the founder of the Targaryen dynasty, Aegon Targaryen’s, favourite sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys.

_Queen Rhaenys died first and the construction upon her hill also fell_   _first_.

The Dragonpit itself used to house the dragons of the royal family until they died out 200 years ago. A structure commissioned by Maegor the Cruel upon the bones of the fallen Sept of Remembrance. A sign of the power once wielded by the Targaryens.

As they continued deeper into the city, Sansa could not help but cringe at the smell. She had been aware from Jon and Ser Jaime that the city produced an unpleasant smell but she had also been told that the late King had made efforts to rectify this. _Perhaps he never finished._

 

Her good friend Jeyne Poole broke the silence in the carriage, “This is Flea Bottom, I heard one of the Targaryen guards saying so. It is one of the poorest neighbourhoods within the city. It is awful people live like this in the capital. You would think the people in King's Landing would have the best standard of life.”

 

Sansa just nodded her head. She could not help but think the buildings looked as though they were about to collapse on one another.

 

The people came out of their homes and watched the royal retinue advance. Some cheered whilst others simply stared, likely from lack of certainty to how the new King’s rule would be. Children were running alongside the guards on their horses. Sansa heard an increase in the volume of cheering and turned to the front to locate the source.

 

Jon, flanked by Ser Jaime and several Targaryen guards, were walking amongst the people, distributing what Sansa believed to be the food that was left for their party, no longer required as they had reached their destination. The King was also handing out gold dragons to the children and also made a point in giving some to the elderly who could not make it to the front of the crowd.

 

After some time, the journey resumed, the retinue leaving to boisterous cheering and many of the people who had not initially joined in were now clapping for their King. _He is like a King from the songs._

 

Passing the Great Sept of Baelor, the centre of the Faith of the Seven, atop Visenya’s Hill, named after Aegon I’s eldest sister-wife – Queen Visenya, Sansa could spot the statue of King Baelor Targaryen, whom the sept was named after. _This city truly highlights the power House Targaryen._

 

Sansa's personal favourite from the Conqueror's two wives was his younger sister-wife.  _She enjoyed dresses, songs, dance and loved to converse with the people._ _Arya always preferred Visenya who was always the more frightening one. Though that would explain why Arya likes her._

Returning her gaze back to the Great Sept, Sansa appraised the building. It was one of the most beautiful structures she had ever seen. She could not help but think it put the Sept in Winterfell to shame. With its large glass marble dome with seven crystal towers, bells built within each, respectively. _Everything seems so much bigger here._

As they travelled down a long road, that is when Sansa spotted it. The massive red castle constructed on the highest hill in King’s Landing, Aegon’s High Hill, named for the founder of the dynasty himself. _The Red Keep._ The seat of House Targaryen looked intimidating from Sansa’s position. Made of pale red stone, it included seven huge towers with the Targaryen banners flapping atop and many defensive positions were built in case of attack. With extremely thick walls, the home of the Iron Throne and the King of the Seven Kingdoms was impressive. _But not bigger than Winterfell. However, Winterfell does not have a city with a population of half a million surrounding it._

They trekked up the hill where the portcullis had already been raised. Servants, knights, lords and ladies all lined the courtyard of the castle. All bowed and curtsied when Jon passed them, him inclining his head at them. They entered the courtyard where many of the servants were knelt on the side. However, it was the middle of the courtyard that caught Sansa’s attention. The wheelhouse came to a stop and she began exiting, followed by the other female occupants. A large group of men were all on one knee. Four of whom were dressed in armour, adorning white cloaks. They had placed their swords in front of them. Bran’s gaping mouth was confirmation enough on who these men were. _The Kingsguard._

The other nine men were all also on one knee. _Well, one old looking man with a long white beard wearing a collar who could only be the Grand Maester was bowing. Poor man looked to be struggling maintaining his bow, forget getting on one knee._

One red haired man was adorning a badge shaped as a hand, another bald man with faints of golden hair was garbed in red crimson robes whilst another olive-skinned man was in yellow with a spear pierced through a sun. There was another bald man in long purple robes and another also adorned in armour, though he was wearing a gold cloak. She was about to assess the other men when her cousin spoke.

 

“Rise,” Jon had adopted a deeper voice which he projected across the courtyard. Everyone rose.

 

The Kingsguard picked up their swords and returned them to their scabbards. It was the red-haired man who spoke up first.

 

“Your Grace, welcome back to your capital. I would like to extend my condolences to your loss and state how very sorry I am.”  _He looked sorry too. The man was probably good friends with the late King and Crown Prince._

“Thank you Lord Connington. I presume suitable rooms have been set aside for our northern guests.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace. The Queen Grandmother herself organised the accommodation for them.”

 

“Good, my men are tired from the journey and I wish for them to rest. Ser Evin, you may take the men to the barracks.” The man bowed to the King and made his way, with the Targaryen and some of the northern guards following behind. The northern guards who remained would be staying behind to protect the members of House Stark.

 

Just then, the six direwolves ran into the courtyard. Lady taking her place beside Sansa. She started running her hand through her companion’s fur. Many of the people in the courtyard flinched and backed away.

 

“There is no need to worry,” Jon addressed the courtyard, “The direwolves will not harm anyone unless provoked, they will also be residing within the castle.”

 

It was the bald man with flecks of golden hair who spoke, “Your Grace, are you sure that is wise? These beasts could be dangerous and cause serious harm.” He looked at Ghost and Greywind like he had caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Sansa looked at Ser Jaime, for the older man held resemblance to the Kingsguard knight; Ser Jaime, however, was avoiding eye-contact with everyone, instead choosing to examine his sword.

 

“Thank you for your concern my Lord Lannister, however, as I assured everyone, the direwolves will not harm **unless provoked.** ” The man who Sansa now deciphered to be Lord Tywin, the Master of Coin, inclined his head but otherwise did not seem to be affected by Jon’s reproach.

 

A man with dark hair that had streaks of silver and purple eyes stepped forward. He had a long pale sword that seemed to almost be glowing strapped to his person. _The Sword of the Morning._ Sansa could see her friend Jeyne Poole as well as other ladies staring at the man. He was handsome and his reputation as one of the greatest fighters in the kingdoms only increased his attractiveness. “Your Grace, the royal family awaits you within the Great Hall.”

 

“Very well, Ser Arthur. Ser Jaime, you may go to White Sword Tower and gain some rest. The other Kingsguard can escort me.”

 

The Lannister knight bowed and quickly left. _Strange, his sworn brothers did not even acknowledge him. I thought they would be over the moon to see one another again. That is how the songs always told it._

Jon turned and addressed herself, her siblings and Theon. “Come, I will introduce you to my family.”

 

* * *

 

They entered the castle and made their way deeper towards the throne room.

 

There were Targaryen banners and depictions of famous moments in history decorating the walls.

 

Scenes included: Aegon the Conqueror being crowned King by the High Septon in Oldtown; The Conciliator’s first wedding to Good Queen Alysanne; Aemon the Dragonknight defending his brother, Aegon the Unworthy, against the assassin brother of House Toyne; the union of the Iron Throne and Dorne and King Rhaegar’s conquest of the Stepstones.

 

As they passed, Sansa noticed all the servants wore black and paid their respects to the new King, bowing or curtseying.   

 

They stopped before huge doors where several guards stood to attention outside. At Jon’s indication, they opened the doors.

 

The first thing that immediately caught Sansa’s attention was the massive throne in front of them. _The Iron Throne._ Thousands of swords all combined, the seat of the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms was a monstrosity. _What do you expect? It was forged from Balerion the Dread’s flames. Speak of the devil…_

Sansa turned her focus onto the source of Septa Mordane’s fright. Gigantic skulls lined the throne room with the largest, the dragon that conquered the kingdoms, closest to the throne. _Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Meleys, Arrax, Ceraxes. No wonder the continent bent the knee to the men who could control these. They are terrifying._ Balerion’s one tooth was larger than Sansa.

 

Within the room, standing in front of the Iron Throne were nine figures who were all in black clothes. The King, the Starks and Theon approached them with the Kingsguard taking defensive positions around the room. As they got closer, Sansa took in their appearances. Two olive-skinned beautiful women who looked remarkably alike, though the younger was much more beautiful. They both had long black hair but the younger one had purple eyes whilst the older had black eyes. The older lady wore a tiara whilst the younger wore a diamond encrusted headband. _Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys, Jon’s first stepmother and eldest sister._

Also present was a strikingly beautiful woman with long blonde hair and green eyes. Sansa immediately knew who she was for she looked very similar to Ser Jaime. She was much more beautiful than Queen Elia with her ruby encrusted tiara and lion shaped necklace. _Queen Cersei, Jon's second stepmother._ Beside her stood a girl who could be no more than one and three or one and four name-days. She had golden hair too but violet eyes and also wore a red flower tiara. _Princess Visenya, Jon's youngest sister._ The timid boy standing next to her had the same features of golden hair and violet eyes. He tried to look confident with his hands clasped in front of him. _Prince Daeron, Jon's younger brother._

 

A girl who had long brown hair that was tied in a braid crown with a diamond headband similar to Princess Rhaenys placed on her head stood next to them. _Princess Alyssa, our cousin and the King’s twin sister._ Though unlike Jon, she did not have the Stark colouring. However, the princess shared the Targaryen purple eyes with her twin brother.

 

Then there were the three remaining members of the royal family. Sansa could not think of a word to describe their beauty except the word ethereal. The man was tall and handsome. He had his silver hair tied back and his piercing purple eyes examined them. He had a sharp face. _Prince Viserys, Jon's uncle._

 

The girl standing next to him was the most magnificent girl Sansa had seen in her life. She had fair skin and the traditional Targaryen hair and eyes. She possessed a delicate beauty almost unworldly. Dressed in a simple black dress, she, like the other princesses, wore a thin bedazzled headband. _Princess Daenerys, Jon’s aunt._

At the centre stood the eldest of the group but by no means less impressive. In fact, despite her age being greater, her beauty was prominent. She projected the most elegance and gracefulness of the women and the most confidence. Standing tall, the woman with long silver hair and violet eyes wore an alluring crown that sparkled whenever she moved her head. She held her head high and had her hands clasped in front of her. A smile appeared on her face as the party drew closer to the royal family. _The formidable Queen Rhaella, Jon’s grandmother._

The northern party stopped in front of the royal family whilst Jon advanced. The royals all curtsied and bowed.

 

“Grandmother.” Jon lifted his grandmother’s hand and kissed it. “May your priceless prayers always be with me.”

 

“My winged wolf returns.” She placed either hands on Jon’s cheeks. “May the gods grant you a long and prosperous reign.” Jon smiled whilst his grandmother hugged him. He then turned his attention to the other members.

 

“My beloved sister.” He moved towards Princess Rhaenys. “Your beauty only increases every time I see you.” She curtsied to him. Jon placed a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

 

“Your Grace.” Princess Rhaenys smiled. “I only wish we were not reunited with such sad tidings hanging over us.”

 

“Aye, Rhae, I wish that were the case too.” Jon moved down the line and appraised his stepmother. “Mother.” He reached for the Queen Dowager’s hand and, like with the Queen Grandmother, placed a kiss to the back of it. Sansa felt Robb stiffen next to her. _What is wrong with him?_

 

Queen Elia gave a small smile and curtsied. “Your Grace, my prayers for your safe return proved fruitful. I wished you could have been welcomed back by your father and brother too.”

 

Jon inclined his head at the Dowager Queen and gave a sad smile. He moved on. “Uncle, it has been long since we last met.”

 

Prince Viserys bowed and smiled with mirth. “It has. I hope we can converse later. I would love to hear about your time in the North and to spar with you, too see what you learned there.”

 

Jon returned the smile and nodded. “My angelic aunt.” The King kissed the silver-haired princess on the cheek.

 

“Your Grace,” Princess Daenerys smiled which only enhanced her appearance. She curtsied then hugged him. Jon seemed to hesitate before reciprocating. Once they broke from one another Jon stood in front of her other cousin who curtsied.

 

“My beloved twin.” Jon placed his hands on her shoulders and engulfed her in a hug which she returned with equal passion.

 

After breaking away, she heard her royal cousin speak for the first time. “You do not know how happy I am at your return. I only wish mother could have been alive to see this day.”

 

“As do I, dear sister.” Jon squeezed her hands with a huge grin before his face fell and a look of seriousness replaced it as he made his way over to his second stepmother.

 

She curtsied. _A poor curtsey, I thought a Queen would know better than anyone how to conduct a curtsey in the correct way._ “Your Grace,” she greeted. Her hands fidgeting.

 

Jon did not even bother exchanging pleasantries with her and moved onto his younger brother and sister. _Well, that was impolite._

As Jon lowered himself to be at level with Princess Visenya and Prince Daeron, Sansa noticed Queen Cersei’s hands now grasping one another firmly. The little Prince and Princess bowed and curtsied, respectively.

 

“I do not know if you will remember me as the last time I saw you, you were only a babe but I am your older brother Jaehaerys,” Jon addressed his sister.

 

“Grandmother told me about you. She said you were fostered in the North and are now the King.”

 

“Aye, I was. I brought you some gifts from there.”

 

The Princess’s eyes lit up and she looked to her mother, as if to gain permission, but her mother did not even bother looking in her direction, preferring to stare ahead. _I do not like Queen Cersei very much._

 

“You do not need your mother’s approval, as you said, I am the King now and I wish for you to have these presents.” The little Princess nodded her head and gave an smile.

 

Jon moved onto Prince Daeron. Before he could initiate the conversation, the Prince took the initiative. “Did you bring me gifts too?”

 

Jon laughed and nodded. “I did, I hope we can get to know one another first before then.” The little Prince blushed. “Of course. Your Grace,” he added on, clearly having forgotten. Jon ruffled the boy’s hair.

 

“Jaehaerys, are you not going to introduce us to your cousins?” asked the Queen Grandmother.

 

"Of course, my apologies."

 

One by one, her siblings were introduced to the royal family. When it was her turn, she curtsied to the Queen Grandmother.

 

“My, aren’t you a prize.” Sansa blushed at the matriarch’s words. “Lady Sansa, you will be a lady-in-waiting to my daughter the Princess Daenerys. I believe you will get along well together and hope you become fast friends," the Queen Grandmother smiled kindly.

 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

 

“This must be the Greyjoy boy,” it was Queen Cersei who spoke up. “I heard you were Lord Stark’s squire. It must have been difficult to serve the man who helped defeat your father and now here you are in the castle of another man who helped crush your father’s rebellion.”

 

Theon frowned. “I am thankful the late King showed me mercy and spared my life, Your Grace.”

 

The Queen Grandmother interceded, “That is enough Cersei, the boy speaks more sense than you. My Rhaegar obviously thought Lord Stark was the best man to raise the boy and if he was raised anyway like Lord Stark raised my winged wolf then he will make a fine Lord of the Iron Islands one day.” Queen Rhaella turned to Theon, “Lord Stark wrote to the Hand and informed us that he wished for you to be a ward of the Crown, as the King has no problem with it then who are we to state otherwise?”

 

“Anyway, enough talk, you must all be tired from your journey. Daenerys, Alyssa and Rhaenys will escort the girls to their rooms and Viserys will escort the men. I have arranged a feast for tonight in honour of the King’s return, we will see you all there.” The princesses motioned for Sansa and Arya to follow them. Viserys doing the same with Robb, Theon and Bran.

 

Sansa followed the princesses and took one last look at the imposing Iron Throne before the doors closed shut.

 

* * *

  

**The Targaryen King**

His family had left the throne room except his grandmother, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent who remained. Once the doors closed she immediately turned to him.

 

“I am glad you are heeding my words from the letter I sent you. You are doing well in your role as King thus-far.”

 

“I just cannot believe they are gone.”

 

His grandmother approached him and held his face in her hands, “I know. The pain will never go away but you will learn to live with it. Time is an effective cure.”

 

The King's grandmother glanced at the two Kingsguard knights before continuing, “there is something I need to tell you of the utmost importance.”

 

Jon grew concerned. “Is everything okay grandmother?”

 

“Not here.” She gestured for him to follow her which he did. They made their way through the castle, into Maegor’s Holdfast and then into his grandmother’s chamber. He thought they had reached their destination but she advanced further into her private study within her chamber. She inclined her head at the Kingsguard. Ser Oswell took a defensive position outside the private study, closing the door. Ser Arthur remained in the room.

 

“What was one of the first things I ever taught you and your siblings?”

 

“The castle has eyes and ears everywhere.”

 

“Exactly, we must be careful where we discuss private matters. We should be safe here.”

 

His grandmother hesitated before she finally exhaled. “You must make your authority known, my wolf. To ensure everyone knows you are in command. To demonstrate your decisiveness. These first days are of the utmost importance. First impressions are everything and lords and ladies will assess you on how you conduct yourself.”

 

“How would I do that?” Jon was confused. _Why did she look so worried?_

“Start with three things. One: You must always keep an eye on both of your stepmothers and their families. Two: Remove Grand Maester Pycelle from his position and request the citadel send a replacement. Three: Establish your own network of spies, you will need that more than ever.”

 

“The Lannisters and Martells would be some of the foremost who would be irked at your accession. Elia is not her family. Remember, I knew her mother, I know how cunning she was and I know they will be angry Martell blood will not sit the throne. Besides, have you not wondered as to why Elia was always so motherly to you and Alyssa? I am sure she had her own reasons for keeping you onside.”

 

“As for your own spies, you will need them. You certainly cannot be fully dependent on Varys.” Here she looked at Ser Arthur before she turned and looked him directly in his eyes. Her next words would instigate an abundance of emotions within him.

 

“You will need them to discover how your father and brother truly died for I am afraid, my winged wolf, that foul play was involved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> Please leave a comment, subscribe and kudos. I love reading your guys' feedback. It really motivates me.


	4. Feasts & Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family bonding times; feasts and fun between the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I started my volunteering work and was caught up in that. 
> 
> Jon's first small council meeting and the Kingsguard meeting will be in the next chapter, I promise. The chapter would have been too big if I had added it all here and I wanted to put out at least one chapter for you guys quickly.
> 
> I will respond to the comments in the last chapter in due course. Apologies, the volunteering work really did consume my time.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**The Middle Princess**

 

Princess Alyssa Targaryen left the throne room and made their way to where her cousins would be residing.

 

“You’ll be staying in the Maidenvault, your rooms have been prepared. I hope it is to your liking.”  _Do I sound too formal? Seems like I can look in the face of the liars of King’s Landing and appear confident but conversing with my northern cousins is daunting._

She was extremely nervous and felt slightly overwhelmed meeting family members she had only ever read about in letters before. This was the first time she was meeting her cousins. Jon had had the opportunity to grow up with them but her time with the Starks only begins now.  _Would they even like me? Would they think I am too proper? Well, they would just have to accept that about her because I am not going to change myself for anyone. I was born a princess and will act accordingly, just as I was taught._

“I am sure they will be magnificent,” her red-headed cousin stated kindly. _She seems friendlier than her younger sister._ The younger Stark had walked behind her the whole time, but Alyssa had caught Arya Stark on more than one occasion scrutinising her. _When she is not rolling her eyes at Sansa, that is._

 

“So, My Ladies, what activities do you enjoy indulging in?” She initiated the conversation but immediately regretted it.  _Was this conversation as awkward as it sounded? Judging from Rhaenys’ facial expression, it was. Smalltalk has never been my forte. That has always been Rhaenys and Daenerys’ expertise._

 

Sansa Stark seemed to not mind for her happily responded, “I love embroidering. I once embroidered one of my dresses with our house sigil.”

 

“Really? What else can you sew?” Her eldest sister always found it easy to strike up conversation with strangers. Whether it be courtiers or the common folk.

 

Whilst Rhaenys and Sansa entered into a conversation of their own about needlework, Alyssa turned to her younger cousin and was about strike up a conversation with her when she was interrupted.

 

“I’m not a lady,” Arya declared bluntly.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Earlier. You said ‘My Ladies’, I am not a lady. I expect you are the perfect lady who also enjoys embroidery and pretty dresses.”

 

She almost snorted but remembered her Dornish stepmother’s reprimand that princesses do not do that in public.

 

“I’ll have you know that a girl can engage in activities that are seen as appropriate for men but also dignify herself as a lady. I enjoy horse-riding and archery just as much as any northern girl would.”

 

“I can’t see you being any good at it. I’m probably better.”  _What an insolent girl. I’ll teach her._

 

“Have a change of clothes then I’ll show you just how good I am at shooting arrows and you can demonstrate your expert skills as well.”

 

“What’s this?” Her sister Rhaenys asked.

 

“I’m going to show Arya my archery. She seems to think that everyone from the south or King’s Landing must all be one breed of women and that only the north knows how to fight. She is also going to show us all how brilliant Stark women are with a bow and arrow.”

 

Arya just shrugged at her.  _I could smack her. If only Rhaenys was not looking._

 

“Are you sure? I don’t think mother will like this,” Rhaenys replied.

 

 “No. No, I’m sure mother would not like us defending our name more,” she rebutted.

 

“Just ignore her princess, Arya is always being miserable and behaves like an urchin,” Lady Sansa chimed in, earning her a look of loathing from the little she-wolf. 

 

“It is fine, My Lady, this provides me with the opportunity to see  **Lady  **Arya’s skills too,” Alyssa stated with a smile directed at her youngest cousin.

 

* * *

 

After appropriate clothing had been adorned, the two dragon princesses and the two wolf ladies found themselves in a private courtyard, away from spectators.

 

“Are you sure about this Lady Arya?” Rhaenys probed.

 

“Definitely,” she replied, determined.

 

“Very well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” her older sister advised.

 

“You can go first,” Alyssa allowed.

 

Arya advanced a bit forward and picked up an arrow. She raised her bow and placed the arrow where required. Taking a deep breath, she aimed for the dummy that had been placed in front of them. She finally released the arrow and it flew and hit the right at the centre of the dummy’s chest.  _She isn’t a complete novice, I’ll give her that._

 

Rhaenys and Sansa both clapped at Arya’s shot, her giving a look of satisfaction and nodded her head in approval to herself.

 

“Aren’t you going to try?” Arya directed the question to Rhaenys.

 

Rhaenys scoffed, “I’m in a dress, My Lady, that should be enough of an indicator that I don’t partake in archery.” Arya rolled her eyes.

 

“That was certainly impressive. Well, I guess it’s my turn,” Alyssa moved forward and picked up her bow. It was made from dragonbone which meant it was lighter than the average bow. _A gift from Aegon; one of the last things he ever gave me._

 

In swift time, Alyssa had grabbed an arrow, aimed and fired at the target, hitting the heart. She quickly picked up another arrow and shot it at the head and another arrow at the target’s groin.

 

Alyssa turned around to find Rhaenys smirking and Sansa standing with her hands over her mouth, looking equally scandalised and awestruck.

 

She turned to look at Arya and found her standing there with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

 

“Let this be a lesson,  **Lady**  Arya, do not judge someone simply on appearances. A woman can wear dresses but also participate in activities deemed for men.”

 

Alyssa then made her exit but not before hearing Arya’s final words and letting out a chuckle.

 

“Can you teach me please?”

**The Targaryen King**

Jon was preparing for the feast thrown in honour of his return. Feasts in Winterfell were a joyous occasion. A gathering where everyone could have fun and dance. Where one did not always have to worry about putting up a front. A time where they could lower their defences and unwind.

 

He, Robb and Theon would exchange gags and stories until the Greyjoy heir would ruin it with a joke that was too lewd causing Lord Stark to simply give them a look that would silence them. Arya would perform some act that would get her into trouble with Lady Stark, whether it be throwing food at Sansa or accidentally cursing.

 

Sansa would always ask him for a dance even though Jon’s skill in said activity had initially been atrocious, though he had improved since. Bran would demand for stories about his family history or of the Kingsguard. _Well, to be fair he would demand for those on every occasion possible._

 

However, feasts in the capital are an entirely different game. A battle, but without the swords and violence. A façade designed to form friendships or enemies. Every move could determine the outcome of some future event.

 

After he was ready, Jon started making his way to the Queen’s Ballroom, where the feast would be held. Ser Arthur falling into step behind him.

 

His mind drifted back to his conversation earlier with his grandmother. He was simple and knew not to trust the Lannisters and Martells. _Of course, they would have a problem with my recent change in circumstance._ _What troubles me is that I am not yet prepared enough to challenge them._ He needed to cement his rule and reinforce his authority, proving he was not weak.

 

“It is essential you form the right alliances,” his grandmother had counselled. _Well, this feast would be good for that at least._

 

After his meeting with her, Jon had asked the Queen Grandmother to act as the official first lady of the court. Normally, this would be his wife but obviously that was impossible considering he did not have one. In the absence of a spouse it would fall to his mother but alas, to his sadness, that was also not possible. _I could have asked Queen Elia. No doubt, it would have mended and improved relations between himself and House Martell._ The Dornish queen had been a mother to him and Alyssa despite the fact that no one would have faulted her if she had chosen to ignore him and his sister. Nonetheless, that was not the case. She had told his father that she would not blame the children for the sins of their parents.

 

However, Jon was not oblivious. He knew how the south worked and thought. Queen Elia had chosen to be open and kind to him rather than make him an enemy. It would make Jon more amiable towards her and her children. Keeping Jon on side would keep him on side with Aegon. He would never think to challenge his older brother. _Keeping me on a leash and preventing me becoming a threat to Aegon. As if I ever envied his position. He was welcome to the throne. Alas, the gods are playing some cruel trick and handed it to me._

 

Whatever her intention, Elia Martell had still been welcoming to him and Alyssa which is more than Cersei Lannister ever did.  _One can be forgiven for wondering which Queen is truly the more cunning._

 

 _No, I could not name my first stepmother as first lady._   _Better not give them too much power. She is a Martell after all._ Anyhow, protocol dictated the most senior member of Jon’s blood would act as first lady and that was his grandmother.  _Not that she would have settled for less anyway. Not that I would have wanted anyone else but her._ Jon had a strong bond with his father’s mother. She always ensured he felt a part of the family when he was a child in King’s Landing. When Jon had left to be fostered in the North; he had been ecstatic. However, there were some things he was saddened by and being away from his grandmother’s warm embrace and kindness towards him was one of these.

 

He was broken out of his thoughts by Ser Arthur, “I am glad you were not on the ship with them, Your Grace.”

 

Jon stopped and turned to face his sworn shield. He looked unwell.  _No, not unwell. Sorrowful. He was one of father’s closest confidantes and greatest friends, a feat that was impossible to achieve by many. He has lost his best friend and a brother in all but blood as much as I have lost a father._

 

“I am also glad you were not there, Ser Arthur,” Jon replied honestly. “I know exactly what you are thinking because I thought the exact same thing.”

 

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Jon raised his hand to indicate for him to allow him to finish.

 

“You are thinking that if you were there you could have prevented this tragedy, but the truth is, Ser Arthur, you being there would not have changed the outcome. The only thing that would have occurred is you having lost your life in the process. You most certainly would have killed many of the pirates, I have no doubt about that, but the ship would still have sunk. The only difference being it would have sunk with one of the greatest knights of the realm on board. I would have been deprived of my father’s loyal friend.”

 

Ser Arthur looked at him a moment then smiled, touched by the king’s words. “You sound remarkably like your father. You also honour me, Your Grace.”

 

Jon inclined his head, “We should get going or we will be late.”

 

They made their way to the ballroom and entered. Everyone stood up when Jon made his way into the room, bowing and curtseying as he approached the centre seat at the high table.

 

When he sat down everyone followed suit. The food began being served, beginning with the royal family’s table.

 

“I had your favourites made, my winged wolf,” Queen Rhaella told him with an affectionate smile.

 

Jon beamed, “thank you grandmother.”

 

“You should start preparing your mind for your small council meeting tomorrow. Be firm and decisive. Remember, they serve you; not the other way around.”

 

“Aye, I know. Maybe you should attend the council with me as my hand?” Jon japed.

 

Rhaella looked affronted. “Hand of the King is no position for a woman. I am fine running your palace for you, Your Grace. For now, you do not need to worry about all that. Now, you need simply to enjoy the feast.”

 

He looked around the hall to see who was present. The King spotted Ser Loras Tyrell. He was one of three Tyrells present in court. Ser Loras was a squire to Ser Gerold Hightower. _‘And enjoys sniffing around Renly Baratheon whenever he’s in the capital,’ his sister, Alyssa, had eloquently informed him._

 

“Here comes the Tyrell girl, watch her fawn over you. She is a harlot, that one.” His grandmother whispered in his ear.

 

Lady Margaery approached the high table and gave a deep curtesy to Jon. He could not help but take in her figure. His eyes falling on her chest area. _Her fault for wearing a dress with a plunging neckline which I’m sure is intentional._

 

“Your Grace,” she uttered sultry after rising, looking Jon squarely in the eyes. As if remembering the people sat next to him she gave a curtsey to the Queen Grandmother and Elia, followed by one to Cersei who swiftly ignored her.

 

“It is good to have you back in the capital, Your Grace, we have been at a loss of  **strong**  leadership ever since the late King left.”

 

His grandmother coughed. “My apologies, my throat suddenly became extremely dry. The air can be quite **toxic** in this chamber at times.”

 

Jon chose to ignore his grandmother’s commentary and smiled at the lady of the Reach.  _She sometimes needs to control her tongue._ “Thank you, My Lady. I would also like to express my condolences on your loss. I am sure my brother meant a great deal to you.”

 

“Your Grace is kind. Losing one’s betrothed is certainly difficult but time will, no doubt, be an effective healer.” She curtsied and made her way back to her table.

 

“What did I tell you? See this handkerchief here,” his grandmother picked up the small fabric, “there is more material in my hand right now than there was on Lady Margaery’s body.”

 

Jon tried to keep a serious face, repressing laughter, but it was very difficult.

 

“Hmm, Aegon has not even been gone for long and she is already eyeing you up; I am sure under the Queen of Thorne’s instruction,” Elia added.

 

“First honest thing you’ve said Elia. We should celebrate your newfound honesty,” Queen Rhaella remarked which Elia swiftly ignored.

 

Not long into the feast, the evening was ruined with an atmosphere being built.  _It would be her._

 

“How dare you bring that beast in here?”

 

Jon turned away from Lord Redwyne, whom he had been conversing with, to look in the direction of the commotion.

 

“Not only did you bring that beast in here, but you had the audacity to bring him near my son.”

 

Cersei seemed to be horrified by something and when he looked at who the unfortunate victim was that Cersei was shouting at, his heart sank. It was little Bran, who looked as though he were about to burst into tears.

 

Jon sighed and made his way to Cersei. “What is the meaning of this behaviour?” He demanded.

 

The hall collapsed into silence. “Your Grace, this boy has brought his pet into the hall and is hiding the beast under the table. He was feeding the beast scraps of food and encouraged my son, the prince, to participate. The beast could have bitten the prince’s hand off.”

 

Robb and Sansa approached Bran, the latter hugging him.

 

“But..,” Daeron began though was cut off by his mother.

 

“A royal prince could have been decapitated by this savage beast from the North.”

 

Lord Tywin rose from his seat and approached the scene. “Your Grace, what my daughter means is that the prince could have been harmed by the direwolf. To bring the animal into a feast was unwise of the young Stark.”

 

Jon raised his hand to silence everyone. “I know perfectly well what your daughter meant Lord Tywin. Nevertheless, to shout at a boy of seven in the manner she did, in the middle of a feast no less, is not befitting behaviour of a Queen. Prince Daeron also has a mind of his own and can decide for himself whether to approach the direwolf or not. You wanted to say something Daeron?”

 

“I……I wanted to feed the wolf, Your Grace,” Daeron answered timidly. 

 

“Did Bran encourage you?” Jon asked.

 

“My own. I wanted to feed it.”

 

“There, you unnecessarily shouted at an innocent 7-year-old.”

 

“I think it be best if you returned to your chamber, Cersei,” Queen Rhaella intervened.

 

 

“Your Grace, I think that is not required,” Tywin inputted. _Of course, you would._

 

“Thank you for your opinion, My Lord, but I decide how to run my household.” _Trying to sound self-assured when I feel anything but. Arguing with the man responsible behind the creation of the Rains of Castamere. Though, I won’t let them know that._

 

Cersei looked like she wanted to argue but chose against it. She motioned for Daeron and Visenya to follow her.

 

 _She won’t like this._ “Visenya and Daeron can stay. They appeared to be enjoying themselves before all this. Let them continue to do so.”

 

Cersei glared at him, curtsied and left, her ladies-in-waiting following behind her.

 

The silence in the hall continued after Cersei’s departure but was broken by Rhaella.

 

“Well, everyone should resume enjoying the feast,” the Queen Grandmother interceded.

 

* * *

 

Jon walked along the front of the royal table. “Ser Loras, may I interrupt this conversation. I have something I wish to discuss with my uncle”, it wasn’t a question but more of a command.

 

“Of course, Your Grace.” Ser Loras bowed and walked away.

 

Jon sat in the now vacant seat next to Viserys. “How is the reconstruction of Summerhall uncle?”

 

“It is going well. You know that your Uncle Benjen was assigned with overseeing the task.”

 

“Aye, I wanted to enquire about Daeron and Visenya. How much of an influence does Cersei have on them?”

 

“Daeron, not much. He’s still young and unware of much that goes on but Visenya, she understands more and has been somewhat affected by her mother’s behaviour and attitude over the years.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well for one, she often dresses in the Lannister colours and style. I thought it was her mother making her, but it turns out she chooses them. She can also be overprotective of Daeron as if everyone is out to kill him. I’m sure that last part is because of her mother. Cersei probably told her Daeron is vulnerable and susceptible to being attacked or something of the like. Visenya also tends to distance herself from her sisters and often distanced herself from Aegon. Again, likely under Cersei’s tutelage. Cersei likely told her it is the two of them and Daeron against us,” his uncle explained.

 

“I didn’t receive that impression yesterday when I spoke to her.”

 

“With all due respect Jaehaerys, you spoke to her for but a moment. That’s hardly enough time to assess someone’s character.” _True._ “Rhaegar never did anything either to curb Cersei. Either turning a blind eye or he was completely oblivious.” _I highly doubt that. My father was aware of everything that occurred around him. Presumably, that was one of the reasons he agreed to me going to Winterfell. To allow me to get away from the toxicity of the capital and certain individuals, including Cersei._

 

“Do you think it is too late to ‘remove’ Cersei’s influence?”

 

“No, she and Daeron are still children therefore there is time to teach Visenya the right ways.”

 

“Well, thank you uncle for your advice.”

 

Viserys grinned, “I am happy to serve. Oh, and Jaehaerys, I meant what I said earlier, I would love to hear about your time in the North and to spar with you.”

 

“I would like that. Perhaps we can spar on the morrow?”

 

Viserys nodded. “By your leave, Your Grace, I wish to retire now.” Jon gave his consent and Viserys stood, bowed and made his exit. The hall was gradually emptying now, now that the hour of the wolf was approaching. His grandmother had already retired, taking Daeron and Visenya with her. Robb had taken Bran, who had fallen asleep on the table, to his chambers.

 

Jon spotted his sisters, Daenerys, Sansa and Arya making their way over to him.

 

“Your Grace, we are all returning to our chambers now.” Jon nodded and waved his hand.

 

They all curtsied, even Arya who tried to imitate them but looked like she had tripped over her own feet. She seemed to be following Alyssa around ever since she arrived at the feast.  _At least they seem to be getting along; that is all I can ask for._

 

As they were leaving, Jon noticed one of them linger slightly before discreetly dropping a note on the table in front of him. He quickly picked it up, covertly sliding it up his sleeve. He subtly looked at Ser Arthur and thanked the gods to see he was conversing with Ser Evin, the captain of the Targaryen household guard. _He didn’t just witness the interaction that just transpired. Good._

 

Jon started making his way back to his own chambers, Ser Arthur bidding Ser Evin farewell and following behind him.

 

Once he reached his chambers, he bid Arthur goodnight and made his way inside closing the door.

 

He took the note out of his sleeve and read the words. Smiling at the contents and feeling a sense of excitement fill him, Jon went out onto his balcony. Night had descended with the city having quietened as the inhabitants had likely withdrawn into their homes. There was a half-moon present in the sky. _I hope Ser Arthur or anyone else need not enter my chamber for whatever reason._

 

With a determined look, Jon began climbing up, using the beams and pillars that held up the balcony above his own. _Bran would be an expert at this. Do not look down or behind me. If I fall, it is the end of me - best not fall._ Placing his foot on panels he was sure were firm, Jon clambered higher and higher. Reaching the balcony above his, Jon climbed over the railing and jumped onto the terrace. He walked towards the doors, tested the handle and found them unlocked, opening and closed them behind himself.

 

She was standing facing her looking glass. The moonlight reflecting in the jewels within her hair. _She looks unworldly._ _Angelic. My delicate star._

 

“I see you got my note,” she broke the silence.

 

“Aye.”

 

He needed her now. _I have been without her for far too long. No more._ Approaching her, he spun her around and captured her lips with his own. She released a moan and wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly moving her hands down to his chest.

 

He grabbed her hips and deepened the kiss, earning a whimper from her.

 

“Jon,” she whispered breathlessly. Hearing her say his name in the heights of their passion, only fuelled him further. He ripped the top of her dress and corset, her breasts escaping free. _I will buy her another one. I will buy her a hundred more as long as I can take her right now._ He placed his hand on one and squeezed, never removing his lips from hers.

 

She pulled on his tunic. They had to break away to remove it, providing them time to catch their breaths. Once the tunic was on the floor, her hands returned to his chest, feeling his now developed pectoral muscles.

 

“You have a warrior’s body now,” she complimented. The praise slightly inflating his pride.

 

“I need to see your body,” he stated huskily. Without waiting for her response, he removed the rest of her dress and corset until she stood bare in front of him. He lifted her in his arms, his hands on her behind, squeezing in the process. She wrapped her legs around him as he made his way to her bed.

 

Throwing her onto it, Jon untied and pulled off his breeches – leaving him completely bare too. He climbed onto the bed and settled on top of her. Jon resumed his kissing but this time on her breasts, sucking them whilst she let out moans.  _I just hope there’s no guards outside. Though at this exact moment I could not care less._

 

He made his way up her body again, coming face to face with her and connected their lips once more. Placing one hand in her beautiful long hair, Jon slowly descended his other hand lower until he reached between her thighs.

 

She was wet.  _Extremely wet and for me._ He entered a finger inside her, being rewarded with a moan which he caught with his mouth on top of hers. Slowly increasing the number of fingers, preparing her by pulling and pushing in and out.

 

She ripped away from the kiss, “Jon, I need you inside me, now,” she panted.

 

He did not need telling twice. He removed his fingers and lined up his cock with her cunt. Jon finally entered her, both the two moaning in synchronisation from the feeling of pleasure.

 

He set a fast pace from the start. Ploughing into her. Burying himself to the hilt within her. It was as if her cunt was welcoming his cock back from a long war. _It has felt like multiple battles being away from her._

 

“Jon!” Her high-pitched moaning whilst calling his name, as if in a mantra, only made him thrust deeper into her. He dragged his fingers up her thighs as she placed her hands on his back and held him closer. Her legs wrapping around his lower backside. His legs working furiously as he rutted into her.

 

“I’m almost there”, he attacked her neck with his lips. The room filled with their throes of passion. The smacking sound of their sweaty skin colliding and their moans the only noises within the room.

 

He felt her cunt clench around his cock and he knew she had reached her peak when she let out a shrill moan, scrapping her nails down his back.

 

 

He was chasing his own relief now. Jon continued to thrust into her deeply whilst she held onto his back. He was close. All too soon he exploded and let out a guttural deep grunt, spilling himself into her.

 

He collapsed his sweaty body on top of hers as they both tried to catch their breaths.

 

“I missed you,” she revealed as he looked into her violet eyes. “What happened to never doing this again?”

 

“We were separated for two years. That is what happened.”

 

“I thought our last time was in Riverrun, after that I returned North and you back to King’s Landing. Thank the gods that Lord Tully hosted that tourney," she mumbled in a sated tone, her hands rubbing his chest. “I believe it was you who initiated things.”

 

“Because you put up a massive fight,” he said in a gruff manner.

 

She laughed.  _He missed her laugh._

 

He rolled off of her body and onto the bed, pulling her closer to him. She rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. They both slowly drifted off to the dream world with smiles on their faces, satisfied. His last thoughts of violet eyes like amethysts and long silver hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that the POV's are the respective character's thoughts and not fact. For example, Queen Rhaella's thoughts about something does not make it fact.
> 
> I'm really excited for this fan fiction. I have lots of ideas and lots of twists for the story which I'm sure everyone will love. I literally have lots of notes on storylines and plot twists.
> 
> Comment, subscribe and kudos. 
> 
> Feedback is highly appreciated.


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has his first small council meeting, the Tyrells arrive in King's Landing & Arthur and Jaime exchange words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post but I was busy with my volunteering work. This is a 6,700 word chapter though, the longest one so far. Volunteering is over now which means I have more time to focus on this. 
> 
> There is a fair bit of backstory to explain some things.
> 
> I know last chapter I said some things would be in this chapter but as I was writing this, it got really long so I'm going to add that in the next one which should be published sooner than this one was. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**The White Bull**

The page boys were helping the King dress for the day. _An important day for the King too._ His Grace’s first small council meeting.

 

Ser Gerold had awoken early that morning and also dressed for the day for he would have to attend the meeting too as the representative of the Kingsguard.

 

The King had barely uttered a word and had scarcely eaten. Ser Gerold could recognise nerves anywhere, for he felt them himself before any battle and he had fought in many now. _Five bloody wars._

 

First there was the War of the Ninepenny Kings under King Jaehaerys II. A war to end the Blackfyres once and for all. He had taken command of the royal forces after the death of the Hand of the King, Lord Ormund Baratheon. _That was the first time I truly experienced nerves._ To fill the role of a man of that calibre, nervous is an understatement. _The man was brilliant._ Hand of the King and married to a royal princess, one of the most powerful men of his time. _And I had to fill his shoes._ Alas, he had done his best which seemed sufficient as they had prevailed and decimated the invaders.

 

Then there was the War of the Usurper under Jaehaerys’ son Aerys II, _The Mad King._ Aerys was one of Gerold’s greatest failures. _He truly made me test my vows._ How did he start off so promising to only plummet into a disgrace? They managed to scrape their way to victory and, though Gerold was ashamed to admit it, Aerys’s violent reign, thankfully, came to an end. The war concluded and Rhaegar ascended to the throne.

 

However, the joy was short-lived for the Greyjoy rebellion soon arose. _The Krakens finally awoke from their hibernation._ Balon Greyjoy thought that Targaryen rule was tenuous and the realm was too fragile to oppose him. _He soon learned otherwise._ Despite anti-Targaryen feeling being at an all-time high throughout the realm, it did not stop the bannermen from answering King Rhaegar’s call. _Though I am sure having wards from the rebel houses played a role in their decision to listen to Rhaegar’s order._ After the Usurper’s war had ended, Rhaegar had made the decision to call for hostages from the rebel houses as a sign of good will the losers could extend to the crown.

 

Benjen Stark, the younger brother of Ned Stark, the new Lord of Winterfell; Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, younger brother of Hoster Tully and Renly Baratheon, the youngest child of House Baratheon were all taken as wards. The Starks got off lighter than the others, presumably due to the late King’s affection for the late Crown Princess and for the loss that family had suffered. Rhaegar initially wanted to take Edmure Tully but decided against taking the heir of Hoster Tully and settled for his brother instead.

 

However, he held no qualms against taking the heir of Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon. _I’m sure Queen Rhaella had a hand in Rhaegar making that decision._ After all, the alliances between the wolves, falcons, trouts and stags was not normal. _They were definitely planning something and as Rickard Stark was dead and Hoster Tully was at a stalemate, with no support from the others, Rhaegar targeted Jon Arryn._ Harrold Arryn was no longer the heir now though, with Jon finally having a son. _Took him long enough._ Still, Harrold was valuable so long as the heir to the Vale remained a sickly boy.

 

As for the Baratheons, Stannis was deprived of his heir likely due to the unfortunate fact that the stags had been viewed as the figureheads of the rebel cause. There sour luck came to an end, however, when Rhaegar appointed Stannis as Master of Laws after the King had recognised the Lord of Storm’s End ‘appreciation’ for the law and for his skill in helping crush the Greyjoy fleet, another war Ser Gerold had fought in.

 

After Balon had been crushed, it had been the late King’s intention to only take his last surviving son but was counselled to make a different decision. To also take Balon Greyjoy’s daughter, Asha Greyjoy. She was sent as a ward to Sunspear. _A kraken in Dorne, that was a first._ Whilst the boy was sent to Winterfell, as a sign of the King’s trust in the Warden of the North.

 

Rhaegar then made a decision that was extremely radical. He curbed the power of the Lord of the Iron Islands by appointing a viceroy. Balon would remain Lord of the Iron Islands but his decisions would be overseen by the viceroy who would represent the monarch. A landmark decision as the monarch had made taken a step to impose directive rule upon the Ironborn. The decision was popular with the Northerners, Rivermen, Westermen and Reachmen. _Naturally, they were often the target of the Ironborn’s raids._ Rhaegar had cited the Iron Islands had been ignored long enough. _In truth, he would have removed House Greyjoy, but that would initiate problems with the other Iron Island lords._

 

Widespread talk also surrounded the King’s nominee. A bastard. Tywin Lannister had suggested his brother Kevan Lannister take the role but the King refused. Even the Hand of the King, Jon Connington, had questioned the idea of a bastard being given such an essential role but the King simply put his foot down.

 

“The circumstance of one’s birth does not subtract from their intelligence or aptness in performing a role”.

 

Aurane Waters had proven his worth in repelling the Greyjoy forces and it was not the first time a bastard had been appointed in a position of authority. Lord Bloodraven had held the most senior office in the realm. Not forgetting the fact that said bastard was a member of House Velayron, loyal supporters of the crown. Lord Waters now sent the capital updates of the events of the Iron Islands.

 

Then there had been the Conquest of the Stepstones. Initiated by the pirates’ bands that resided there, they had begun to disrupt trade from the east to Dorne and the Stormlands. It had also been reported that pirate ships had, on several occasions, been spotted closer to the island of Estermont.

 

Rhaegar had been reluctant to engage in another war but understood the importance of stabilising the region and resuming trade. He had first gathered support from Dorne, the Stormlands, the Reach and the Westerlands. For the first time, Rhaegar had formally summoned the Iron Islands, appreciating their worth in this endeavour. _And the fact they are essentially pirates, who better to know how to defeat the inhabitants of the Stepstones?_

 

A united force against the squabbling pirate bands proved successful under the leadership of himself and respected commanders such as Tywin Lannister, Brynden Tully, his fellow brother Barristan Selmy and Randyll Tarly.

 

A plan had been established beforehand for the implementation of a method to keep the Stepstones, in the event of a success. Conquering the Stepstones was not the problem, that had been done before, the problem therein lied in preserving control of the region. It had been recognised that leadership under an individual who held great knowledge of the land and its surroundings would be required to maintain control.

 

This was followed by another decision that shocked everyone. The Master of Ships had a man in his retinue by the name of Davos Seaworth, a polite man, who revealed to the King in private that he knew of a man that could potentially be who the King was looking for. Easy to work with, friendly, already well-known with the population and has a strong knowledge of the area. The only problem – he was a pirate.

 

Lord Seaworth had vouched for the man stating he would put that part of his life behind him in exchange for lordship over the Stepstones. Rhaegar had spent two days thinking this over and had decided to formally invite the man to King’s Landing so he could see for himself the character of the man.

 

The man had an appetite for women, however he was competent. He indeed proved himself to Rhaegar with his knowledge and his notoriety on the seas spoke for itself. Though the man’s power lay on the seas, this skill would be useful in repelling attacks and preventing invaders from ever setting foot on the Stepstones. Again, there were disagreements about this decision. The man was a pirate and pirates were untrustworthy but the King pointed out Lord Seaworth was a former smuggler and was now devoted to Stannis Baratheon. _His skills as a pirate could also prove to be essential in any future wars and he’d be indebted to the Targaryens._ The man’s family also dated back right to The Conqueror and it was said they possessed Valyrian blood.

When the conquest of the Stepstones was a success, King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name named Salladhor Saan as Lord Paramount of the Stepstones. He was free to choose to lords whom he trusted to support his rule, with the approval of the King, of course. Bloodstone had been named the regional capital of the islands and the seat of the Lord of the Stepstones.

 

House Saan had sworn loyalty to House Targaryen, to rule in their name, in perpetual servitude. _Not to mention King Rhaegar had been named Emperor of the Stepstones._  

 

The control of the Stepstones was a great win for the Seven Kingdoms as it allowed them direct control over all of the trading in the narrow sea.

 

Alas, that was not the last war as it was rightfully pointed out that the last time the islands had been conquered, the Triarchy had been formed. An alliance between the cities of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh, it was agreed upon to prevent this from happening Lys would need to be taken.

 

Lys was selected because of its location. It was an island which could be surrounded and, unlike Tyrosh, it was further away from the other free cities, making it more difficult to request for help from other cities.

 

The small council had established strategies to weaken the defence of Lys. Lys depended on sellsword companies for the defence of their city. It had been Ser Gerold’s own suggestion that they should pay off the mercenaries who had taken contracts in defending Lys, the one’s who’s loyalties could be bought. _Sellswords are not honourable like knights, once you take the gold away they have no cause to fight for._

They had sent some of their best men to infiltrate the city, taking control of watch towers and the port. They had then stormed the city which had been much easier than expected. The Lysene people were not great fighters, depending on sellswords for protection. Once the city fell, by nightfall, the Targaryen banner flew in the city’s central building.

 

The problem with Lys was that it was reliant on the slave trade, an act forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms. The King had been firm in his desire to remove slavery but was aware that it would be a process that would take time rather than a quick move.

 

Measures had been implemented to ensure the abolishment of slavery. Starting with giving the ruling class a choice. _The King had wanted to give them a chance._ Swear loyalty to the Iron Throne and adapt into a new way of life in Lys; join the Night’s Watch, an unpopular decision with the Lysene people, with only a very small amount taking this choice, the majority did not know much of the wall nor what the job there would entail or to face execution. The idea of exiling the slavers was considered but ultimately decided against as the people would never give up their old way of life easily and would only run to another free city and offer their support there. _The bitter truth is the ruling class needed to be removed to prevent future rebellions._

 

Tywin Lannister had been of the opinion to simply execute them all and be done with it. _Not surprising from the man responsible for the Rains of Castamere._ The King was firmly against this believing they should be given a choice, which Ser Gerold fundamentally agreed with.

 

Many of the Lysene ruling class did surrender and swore fealty to House Targaryen. They were allowed to continue running their businesses but with the difference being they had to pay their former slaves and not treat them brutally. Others refused, with many attempting to escape to Myr, Tyrosh or Volantis. The children and women had been spared, with many taking up the running of their family businesses. Some were given the option to go to Westeros and make a life there. Others to continue living in Lys and being given an allowance, if they were incapable of working, or until they came of age for children and were old enough to make a life for themselves. The older children were allowed to join Lys’ new standing army, which the King had ordered be trained to control the city and protect it from outside forces.

 

Lys’s economy was then looked at to create a new system of income to fill the void left by slavery. Lys was a great source for fruits, with copious amounts of fertile land as well as fish filled in the waters surrounding the island. They were also a respected provider of red and white wine and beautiful tapestries. All these resources were exploited to allow the city to function. The King allowed the Lysene people to continue to choose their leaders, who would then have to swear fealty to the Iron Throne. One individual was also appointed by the King to act as the representative of the monarch in Lys to prevent corruption _and the return of slavery._ They would also have command of the new Lysene army, this individual was given the title of Viceroy of Lys. _And the King was anointed Emperor of Lys._ Thus, concluding the Targaryen Conquest of Lys and another war.

 

The knock at the chamber doors brought Ser Gerold back to the present.

 

“Enter”, the King ordered. The Queen Grandmother entered the chamber, dressed in her queenly garb with her diamond tiara, she curtsied to the King and closed the door. “You don’t have to curtsy to me grandmother”. She extended her hand which His Grace held and kissed.

 

Ser Gerold and the page boys bowed to her, “Humph, it starts with me not curtseying then your siblings will follow suit, next thing you know everyone will stop bowing and you’ll just be a man who struts around in a crown without receiving any reverence from the commoners”, she grumbled.

 

“Alright, alright. Forgive me for asking”.

 

“Good. Today is a big day for you”, she approached His Grace and started adjusting his collar. She took the ring from the page boy and slid it on the King’s finger. “But I know you will be brilliant. No need to be nervous. If anyone should be nervous it should be the lords”.

 

“Was..”, the King hesitated, Queen Rhaella smiled and prodded him to continue. “Was father worried for his first small council meeting?”.

 

“I believe he was, yes. The Usurper’s war had just concluded and the realm was fractured and needed mending. You do not have to worry about that though. We have had peace for 4 years. I’m not oblivious and saying all is good in the realm and the dominions but your first meeting is nowhere near as critical as Rhaegar’s was. Calm yourself, my winged wolf”. She placed her hand on his cheek.

 

“You still have not moved to the King’s chambers. I’ll have the servants move your things there whilst you’re in the meeting”.

 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I like my chambers”.

 

“Nonsense, you’re the monarch now and should be in rooms fit for the head of the royal house”.

 

King Jaehaerys nodded.

 

“I should go now”, the King stated. The Queen Dowager nodded. The King opened the door and started making his way to the small council chamber.

 

Ser Gerold followed but was stopped by the Queen Grandmother’s hand grabbing his arm. “Watch over him, Lord Commander”.

 

“I will, Your Grace”, The Lord Commander bowed and followed the King. Ser Barristan met them on the way and they made their journey to the small council chamber.

 

Once reaching the chamber, Ser Barristan remained outside whilst Ser Gerold and the King entered. Once the doors opened, the occupants of the room all rose and bowed.

 

King Jaehaerys made his way to the head of the table and sat, Ser Gerold standing in his position next to the King. The lords all sat after the King.

 

“Before we formally begin, Grand Maester Pycelle”, the old maester sat up. “You have served my family for decades. Under Aegon V, Jaehaerys II, my grandfather and father. However, I’m afraid that time has come to an end”.

 

“Your Grace?”, Pycelle stiffened and muttered out. _Good you cockroach, I want to see you squirm._

 

“Though you may be a competent servant in relation to medicinal needs, your personal ‘interests’ have caused a conflict to arise. To be more specific, your unethical behaviour outside of your duties that are unseemly of Grand Maester of the realm”.

 

“What is this ‘unethical behaviour’ that I have indulged in, Your Grace?”. _The same behaviour you’ve been indulging in for years now, you shrivelled up old twat._

 

“The act of laying with women despite the citadel forbidding its members from indulging in the needs of flesh”.

 

“That is absurd! I have always been faithful to my vows”, sweat began forming on Pycelle’s forehead.

 

“I thought you might say as much which is why I ordered Lord Varys to investigate this matter, he was quick to find results”. _Of course, he was. He’s eager to be rid of the old maester._ “The findings did not surprise me”, The King was enjoying this, Ser Gerold could tell.

“Lord Varys”, the King addressed and inclined his head at the eunuch.

 

Lord Varys giggled, “When His Grace asked for my assistance in this matter, I immediately set my little birds to do the King’s bidding and, as usual, they never failed me. Ser Gerold, if you would be so kind, there are four young women standing outside. Please escort them in”, Lord Varys tittered.

 

He looked at the King and when he received his affirmation, Ser Gerold made his way to the door and, just as the spymaster had stated, the four women stood outside. He motioned for them to enter.

 

Ser Gerold looked at the Grand Maester once the women stood before the small council table. His body had stiffened and he was now wringing his hands.

 

The women all curtsied to King Jaehaerys, “Please speak freely, my good women. No one here will harm you nor will your jobs or positions be placed in jeopardy”. Three of the women looked petrified whilst one looked resolute. _Pycelle’s serving girl._

Ser Gerold watched Pycelle from the corner of his eye, he watched the maester look to Lord Tywin but the Lannister lord simply ignored him and stared at the women. _Your master is not going to help you, you old fool. He would not lift a finger to save your life._

It was the Hand of the King who initiated talks. “You, girl”, the hand pointed at one of the fearful girls who flinched at his words. _He never did know how to speak to the fairer sex._ “What is your position and how is it you encountered the Grand Maester?”, Jon Connington asked brusquely.

 

The girl in question looked as if she were about to faint. “Milord, I…I….I’m a kitchen ma…maid”, the girl managed to get out. She took a long deep breath to compose herself before continuing, “I had cut my finger one day and went to the rookery to have an acolyte mend it but I stumbled upon the Grand Maester. He said he would be able to heal my finger. I refused, not wanting to impose on his time, stating an acolyte would be sufficient, but he insisted”.

 

“Your Grace, are you really going to believe the words of a commoner over your faithful servant?”, the Grand Maester interrupted.

 

“The girl is allowed to speak, maester, you’ll get your turn”. His Grace turned to the girl and encouraged her to continue.

 

“I eventually agreed to go with the maester. He mended my finger but when I offered to give him some gold he refused. Instead….instead he stated I should lay with him in return for him seeing to my finger. I refused but he then stated that he could get me removed from my position. I agreed in the end Your Grace, but I did not want too”, she quickly added in the latter part. The kitchen maid finished and fell back in line with the others.

 

“Thank you for your words”, the King turned to Pycelle’s serving girl. “My goodwoman, would you please inform the council of what occurred between you and the maester”. The serving girl bowed and without thinking twice launched into her description.

 

“I have served the Grand Maester for a long time now, Your Grace, so I know him very well. He started coercing myself into serving him in other ways that are unseemly of a woman when I had worked for him for 5 moons”.

 

Lord Redwyne was visibly shocked, Varys looked pleased with himself, Jon Connington did not look surprised, Lord Stannis was indifferent. It was Lord Tywin who interested Ser Gerold, the man had narrowed his eyes.

 

“This is outrageous. I have been nothing but respectful and kind towards you”.

 

“A little too kind it seems, Grand Maester”, scoffed Prince Oberyn.

 

“Enough. Continue please”, the King addressed the latter at the serving girl.

 

“As I was saying, the Maester threatened to remove me from the castle if I refused to comply with his requests therefore him taking advantage of me continued”.

 

“I see. You, short girl with the brown hair. How do you know the Grand Maester?”, the Hand barked.

 

“I am a scullery maid, Milord”, the girl barely managed to get out amidst her hysterical crying. “I had been in the rookery seeing to the Grand Maester’s fire when he…he had walked in. I…I dismissed myself and was making my way to the door when he grabbed my arm. He demanded I stay and service him”, she wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I had no idea what he meant but I later learned exactly his intentions. He grabbed me and threw me on the bed and climbed atop me and forced himself on me”.

 

Pycelle stood up, knocking his chair over in the process, “This is a lie!”, he roared. He continued into a tirade, “I have never forced myself upon anyone. I have never even met this woman in my life let alone rape her! Your Grace, you have to believe me! I have laid with the other two women but I don’t this woma-”, Pycelle abruptly stopped. _We have you now you worm._

“Ah, an admission of guilt. How unfortunate for you maester because now a trial has been nullified. You have admitted the crime and what remains now is the sentence. A mortified Pycelle opened and closed his mouth several times. He turned to look at the council members, hoping one of them would come to his rescue, his eyes lingering on Lord Tywin longer than the others but Lord Tywin didn’t even meet his eyes, the Master of Coin instead opting to merely stare at the serving girl in a contemplative manner.

 

“Your Grace, there are more serious crimes the maester has committed that must be brought to light”, Pycelle’s serving girl spoke up. _Well, former serving girl likely now._

“And what is that?”.

 

“The poisoning of Princess Shaena Targaryen, your Grace’s stillborn aunt and Princes Daeron, Aegon and Jaehaerys, Your Grace, the children of the late King Aerys and Queen Rhaella”, exclaimed Pycelle’s former serving girl to a dead silent small council chamber.

 

* * *

 

**The Rose of Highgarden**

 

She stood beside her eldest brother and heir to Highgarden, Willas, and her third brother, Loras. Also present was Margaery’s aunt Lady Mina Tyrell, wife of the Master of Ships, and her aunt’s children, her cousins, twins Horas and Hobber Redwyne and Desmera Redwyne. They stood waiting in the courtyard of the Red Keep, anticipating the arrival of the carriage with her family inside.

 

Her family had a strong presence at court since the War of the Usurper. Herself serving Princess Daenerys as a lady-in-waiting; her aunt served Queen Elia as a lady-in-waiting, _something the Dornish Queen takes great pleasure in, a Tyrell serving a Martell_. Her uncle, by marriage, was also Master of Ships. Not to mention her own betrothal to Aegon. _So. Close. I was so close to becoming the Queen one day. Aegon had been the perfect husband, strong and handsome, and not too intelligent enough to listen to her counsel. Even if he did have a wandering eye for other women but I thought I had taken care of that only to have him die not long after._

 

“I hear that the Martells will be arriving within a fortnight. That should be interesting”, Willas exclaimed with a smirk.

 

“Hardly, those Dornish will likely stir up trouble as soon as they arrive, acting as if they own the place. I am sure they will clash with father or grandmother, at least”, Loras returned.

 

“Firstly, if anyone should have an issue with the Dornish it would be me and I don’t. Secondly, I highly doubt the Dornish will behave like that considering the regime has changed, Elia is now a Queen Dowager”.

 

“As if that would stop them”, her aunt chimed in.

 

“I hear Arianne Martell will be arriving to court with the Dornish retinue”. _He’s trying to rile me up. I won’t rise to it._

“They say she’s incredibly beautiful and she’s an heiress. Not to mention her complexion makes her look exotic. It would definitely turn heads”, Willas continued wryly. _That the best he can do? Ignore._

“Not to mention Queen Elia would be whispering in a certain royal man’s ear. A certain man who perceives her as a maternal figure”. _Maybe I should cripple his other leg too._

“If successful, Arianne will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Martells will have one of their own on the throne again. What a Queen she would be”. _Enough._

“She would be nothing more than a hussy!”, Margaery fumed.

 

Willas chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

 

“Alright, enough. King Rhaegar and the Crown Prince are not even buried yet so now is not the time to be discussing betrothals”, her aunt tried to defuse the tension.

 

It was Desmera who responded, “Contrary mother, I think now is the perfect time. Will the royal family honour the betrothal? Protocol dictates King Jaehaerys take Margaery to wed to honour the betrothal formed by the late King and Lord Mace?”. _This is why she is my favourite cousin. At least one of the many few who’s name I remember._

“Enough Desmera, do not speak about things of which you know nothing about”.

 

“Make way, make way!”, the Herald bellowed to the crowd in the courtyard.

 

“They’re here”, Loras gushed joyfully.

 

Indeed, a large number of horses rode into the courtyard accompanied with nights dressed in knightly finery, topped with the Tyrell rose on their chest-plates. They were all carrying green shields with the house sigil. She spotted a familiar face amongst the men on horses and broke into a smile, _Garlan._

 

Following them into the courtyard was a large horse drawn carriage with the Tyrell banner flapping above it.

 

The carriage came to a stop in front of them and out opened the doors. A page boy quickly ran to place steps in front of the doors on the ground.

 

She thought her father would be first to come out but she should not have been surprised who actually did come out first. _She would not let anyone supersede her._ For the first one out was an old woman with a cane. To the outside eye, she seemed like a harmless old woman but Margaery knew better. _She didn’t earn her epithet for nothing._

After her grandmother, outstepped her father, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South followed by her mother Lady Alerie Tyrell and finally her good-sister Leonette Fossoway.

 

They approached Margaery and the waiting party. Her brother approached first and inclined his head at Lady Olenna.

 

“Grandmother. You look, well you look adequate”, Willas quipped. Margaery laughed internally. _He was always Grandmother’s favourite grandson._

 

“Oh, an honest assessment. At least you did not deliver some drivel about how young or brilliant I look. You, however, look well. Unlike your father who looks like his usual incompetent self”, the latter part she whispered but Margaery managed to hear. _For all her rebukes of father, she wouldn’t want to unnecessarily hurt him._

Her grandmother moved to greet herself. Margaery hugged her grandmother fiercely. She would never admit it to her mother but she would miss her grandmother more than her when they were away from one another.

 

“Not so tight dear, I am still old, you know”.

 

Margaery released her grandmother and went to great her mother whilst her aunt greeted Lady Olenna.

 

“Mother, it has been a long time”, Mina stated cordially.

 

“Well, who’s fault is that daughter?”.

 

“Oh, you know mother, once I escaped your clutches I refrained from ever returning. Freedom was too exhilarating”.

 

Olenna and Mina smiled and hugged one another. Two men who looked identical approached her grandmother and stood behind her.

 

“Ah, you all remember my guardsmen, Left and Right”, Olenna stated nonchalantly.

 

“Mother, I think you mean Erryk and Arryk”, Mace interrupted.

 

“Yes, yes. They don’t mind me calling them what I did, do you boys?”. Erryk and Arryk opened their mouth to respond but were cut off by their mistress who didn’t wait for their response.

 

“Horas, Hobber. Come welcome your poor old grandmother”. Her cousins moved towards her grandmother.

 

“Margaery dear, how are you?”, her mother embraced her.

 

“I am well mother, considering the circumstances”.

 

“Well, we are here now so no need to worry about anything”, her father also embraced her.

 

“Will you be staying long?”, her cousin Hobber enquired.

 

“Just until after the coronation”, Mace replied.

 

“And to oversee a few matters”, her grandmother inputted, giving Margaery a look.

 

“Well, are we going to stand here all day? Queen Elia has allocated rooms for you in the Maidenvault”.

 

They all started making their way towards the Maidenvault. “Yes, I hear you have been serving the Dornish Queen for many years now. How is that?”, her grandmother asked her aunt with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

 

“She is fair. Not cruel like Queen Cersei at least. She recently promoted me to chief lady-in-waiting after Lady Ashara was appointed as high treasurer of the palace by the Queen Grandmother”.

 

“Ah, of course. The King’s former Dornish wet nurse. The King must be pleased with that appointment. We also heard that you have purchased a villa in the city?”, added Lady Alerie.

 

“Yes, well it is natural, what with my own and my husband’s positions. Council members often reside in the city instead of the castle, especially if they have their own households”. They were now almost at the Maidenvault.

 

“Where is your husband?”, Mace asked.

 

“He’s in a small council meeting. The King’s first one”.

 

“MAKE WAY FOR HER GRACE, THE QUEEN GRANDMOTHER!”, a herald announced. Sure enough, the Queen Grandmother was making her way down the hallway, towards them, followed by her entourage which consisted of a Kingsguard, Ser Oswell this instance, and her 6 ladies-in-waiting.

 

The Tyrell party all stopped and bowed and curtsied, Margaery’s grandmother curtsying whilst holding her cane.

 

Queen Rhaella stopped in front of them and examined them all. “My Lord, My Ladies”, she nodded her head at her father, mother and grandmother.

 

“Your Grace, it is an honour.”, her father stated with deference. _I can feel grandmother rolling her eyes at father._

 

The Queen Dowager gave a tight smile, “Quite. Lady Olenna, it has been a long time. The last time we saw one another was a very long time ago, when you were Lady of Highgarden and myself the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You had just expressed your opinion of how I was a meek Queen which one of my ladies, the Princess of Dorne, happened to overhear”.

 

Her grandmother’s smile dropped, “That was merely a misunderstanding, Your Grace”.

 

“I’m sure it was”.

 

“Anyway, you still look well and we are terribly sorry for your loss”, Lady Olenna responded. _She’s struggling to maintain this conversation, I have not ever seen her in the presence of someone who outranks her. She finds it difficult to submit to the Queen._

“Thank you, My Lady, and thank you again for the compliment”, Queen Rhaella appraised Lady Olenna, her eyes travelling down the length of her grandmother. “I would return the gesture, Lady Olenna, but I see that you now walk with a cane. How unfortunate. What ever happened?”, concern etched in her voice. Margaery looked at her grandmother. _I’ve never seen her like that. No one has ever affected her before._

“Old age, Your Grace. My hips are not what they used to be. You **will** maybe feel the same thing soon too”.

 

“Perhaps, or perhaps the gods will see fit to **not** burden me with that”.

 

“Potentially”.

 

“Well, you and myself should have tea sometime. To catch up for lost time. To think, there would not have been any lost time, had the gods not chosen a different path for you. We could have been related”. _Her grandmother wasn’t responding. I’ll help her out._

 

“Related?”, Margaery feigned ignorance. “Oh, through Prince Daeron? Shame the betrothal fell through. Poor Prince Daeron must have been mournful when House Redwyne allowed my grandmother to marry my grandfather, after they fell in love”. _There. Let’s see the she-dragon come back from that._

The matriarch of the Targaryen family looked down at the floor but Margaery saw her smirk. She eventually looked back up, “If that were the story, it would be House Targaryen who would ‘allow’ Lady Olenna and Lord Luthor’s union, my dear. You would need the approval of the royal house to break off a betrothal with the royal family. Nevertheless, your information seems to be inaccurate. I’m afraid you are mistaken. My uncle was the one who put an end to the betrothal. An unfortunate incident which brought dishonour upon our house and infuriated my grandfather but alas he ended it. But never to fret, because after the betrothal fell through, as you put it yourself, your grandmother **quickly** found love elsewhere which I’m glad for”.

 

Margaery, her brothers and Leonette glanced at her grandmother who held a passive look in her face but Margaery knew better. _She’ll rant about this incident later._

“Anyway, I’m glad I could clear up any ‘misunderstandings’. I would also still like an answer about that tea. I’m sure we have a lot to discuss”.

 

Lady Olenna took a moment then replied, “I would love to, Your Grace”, she had plastered a smile on her face.

 

“I look forward to it. Gooday”. They all bowed as the Queen Grandmother and her followers left.

 

There was a long awkward pause before Willas broke it,

 

“So, Queen Cersei enjoys picking arguments with 7 year olds”.

 

* * *

 

**The Sword of the Morning**

“It feels strange”, he expressed.

 

“Strange? Strange how?”, his sister enquired whilst writing down calculations of the expenditure of the kitchens.

 

“Ever since I came to this city, Rhaegar was always here and now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do with myself. Even during Aerys’ reign, it was Rhaegar I was truly devoted too. Just waiting for the day he ascended the throne and ushered in a golden era but that’s all gone. What do I do now?”.

 

“You protect and defend his son with your life. That’s what you do, like you have sworn to do. Like you promised Princess Lyanna you would”.

 

“I know that Ash, but I feel I barely know him. I fought with Rhaegar to be the one to go North with him, to fulfil my oath to Lyanna, but he was adamant in his decision to have Jaime be the one to go. I’m sure the Queen Grandmother had a hand in that by the way”, he moaned.

 

“Of course, she did, she has a hand in everything. How do you think I feel? I fed that boy from my own teat. Now, that same little boy has grown into a man with a crown on his head. I mean seriously, he has a beard, muscles and everything”.

 

“I know. I regret that I couldn’t teach him how to swing a sword”, he muttered morosely.

 

She slammed the quill down. “Seven hells, you are acting as if the boy is dead! He has come home and you should be happy. I know I am. Furthermore, you gave him his first sword and now you can train with him. Teach him everything he needs to know. Stop being so gloomy. He needs positivity surrounding him not your sour face”, his sister slapped his arm.

 

He raised his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right”, he quickly spoke.

 

“Of course, I am. I’m always right”.

 

He laughed and changed the subject to try to lift the atmosphere. “So, how is your new position?”.

 

“Lots of work but I’m grateful to the Queen Grandmother. Women in my position never rise up in the world as high as I have”.

 

He smirked, “What, you mean an unmarried woman with a child?”.

 

She snorted, “Yes, that. I am serious though. I was appointed the high treasurer of the King of the Seven Kingdoms’ castle instead of being a disgraced lady in Starfall”.

 

“That’s true. How is Lyra?”.

 

“She is well. She wrote to me today and said she would be back after the funeral”, Ashara stated wistfully.

 

“Good. I miss her and I know Princesses Rhaenys and Alyssa do too”.

 

Ashara smiled and nodded her head.

 

He looked at Ashara, deciding whether to say what he wanted. _Here goes nothing._

“You know the Starks are here”, the Sword of the Morning probed.

 

She looked back at the parchment in front of her and continued scribbling away, “I’m aware”.

 

“Well, she does share similarities with them”.

 

She stopped writing but didn’t look up. “Please don’t do this”. _It still pains her._

“Alright, I’ll drop it but I will say she has a right to know”.

 

“You’ve said it and now I have to go and show the papers to Queen Rhaella. If you would excuse me”. She got up and started gathering her things.

 

“Ash, I’m sorry”. _The last thing I want to do is upset her._

She stopped and looked at him, “Me too”.

 

With that, she left the White Sword Tower.

 

_Great, I’ll have to buy at least 3 bottles of Dornish to make it up to her._

The door opened again and Arthur looked up, hoping it was Ashara but his hope amounted to nothing.

 

“Ser Arthur”, Jaime inclined his head.

 

“Jaime”.

 

“Ser Oswell not back yet?”, the Lannister questioned.

 

“No, he’s still at the Sept, standing vigil. I should be going there now actually to relieve him”.

 

Ser Arthur got up to make his way and begin his duties when Ser Jaime spoke again.

 

“When will you actually look me in the eye?”.

 

Arthur paused midway, without turning around, still facing the door.

 

“When will I have atoned for the crime of ending a madman?”.

 

Arthur exhaled and spoke, “You and I both know that is not the reason behind my behaviour towards you”.

 

“I have been in the North for years and you still have not forgiven me?”.

 

“It is not my forgiveness you need to seek!”, the Sword of the Morning bellowed.

 

“I know but I desire your forgiveness”.

 

Arthur swallowed. _Gods grant him strength._ “If you desire that then continue your duty by the King and stay away from **her** because, I swear to the gods, if I catch you with your sister performing your…your…perverted practices, then I swear, this time I **will** tell the King”. Without waiting for Jaime’s acknowledgement, Arthur swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, not looking back once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Ser Gerold for the backstories because, as Lord Commander and a trusted man by Rhaegar, he would have been privy to all that information.
> 
> The idea of the Seven Kingdoms expanding always interested me. This is a medieval world and medieval Europe always had border changes. The expansion of the Spanish Empire, the Habsburg Monarchy, France, England and the Ottoman Empire all increased their territories throughout their reigns. E.g. Emperor Carlos, Louis XIV and Suleiman the Magnificent.
> 
> Please leave a comment as it is a great source of my motivation! Again, apologies for not being able to respond to previous ones but I assure you, I do read them! I have more time to reply back now and will get around to responding to previous ones too.
> 
> Subscribe and Kudos too!


	6. Small Council Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes a decision about Pycelle, Rhaenys and Elia discuss their situation and Cersei meets with her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, another chapter for you.
> 
> I wanted to address comments asking about Jon/Daenerys. I am not changing the pairing so please stop asking for that. Jon/Daenerys isn't a simple love story and them getting together and married now will, of course, not make sense. We're still early on. Circumstances will change in the future with twists and turns. This isn't a straightforward Jon/Daenerys story. Characters you are asking me to pair Jon with I already have plans for.
> 
> If you want to provide constructive criticism then please feel free, but in a polite manner. I don't appreciate rude comments pretending to be criticism. I will extend the same courtesy shown to me (aka, I will be rude back if someone is rude to me).
> 
> I didn't know how royal princes and princesses are addressed in this world. I've read the books and they only refer to Dornish princes and princesses as "My Prince" or "My Princess". Due to this, I'm going to refer to them as "Your Royal Highness".

**The Red Viper**

 

Silence. That was what the small council chamber was filled with. The only noise being the heavy breathing of the Grand Maester. _Not that I empathise with him. He deserves everything he gets._

The Prince of Dorne held great contempt towards the old man. It was due to the association the man had with one of the most important individuals in Oberyn’s life. _Elia was always mistrustful of him. Especially after he told her she could not bear any more children, one of the causes of Rhaegar’s shameful behaviour towards his sister._

“What did you just say?”, the first words spoken since the revelation were delivered by the usually quiet Master of Laws.

 

“It’s true Milords, the Grand Maester was responsible for the deaths of the royal children by the Queen Grandmother”, Pycelle’s serving girl reiterated, staring the Master of Laws unflinchingly.

 

“That is slander! I have always fulfilled my duty to House Targaryen faithfully. Not once have

I behaved otherwise”, the Maester yelled. _Evidently you have, you just admitted to laying with women. How is that to the benefit of House Targaryen?_

“That is a very serious accusation to make against a member of the small council and your master.”, Paxter Redwyne supplemented.

The Master of Laws spoke once again. _The most I’ve heard from him all moon._ “Do you have something to back up your immensely serious claims? You understand we cannot just take your word for things? It would simply be your word against the Maester’s”.

 

_Something doesn’t add up._ Oberyn decided to throw in his own inquiry “How would you know the maester is the cause of the Queen Grandmother’s failed pregnancies? You are far too young to have served the royal family back then”.

 

“Yes, you’re right, My Prince, I wasn’t in Grand Maester Pycelle’s service then but I have seen things overtime that have led me to my conclusion”.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Well, come on girl. No need to stop for dramatics”, Jon Connington ordered. _Subtle as always._

 

“Sorry Milord. It is common knowledge that the Maester is known to have a store of poisons”.

 

“That isn’t unusual for the Grand Maester”, the Hand stated harshly. _What’s crawled up his arse?….or rather what hasn’t?_ Oberyn laughed internally at his own joke.

 

“No, Milord, that isn’t unusual but the Maester’s skill with poisons, however, is unusual”.

 

Pycelle interrupted, “Your Grace, this is unfair. I must be given an opportunity to defend myself”.

 

“Very well Maester, this will be your trial. A trial for accusations regarding your conduct with the Queen Grandmother’s pregnancies. Myself, the Hand and the Master of Laws will preside over your trial and give a judgement after listening to both sides of the stories and assessing evidence. Unless you would like a public trial?”. The Prince of Dorne smirked to himself. _He knows what he’s doing. Perhaps he isn’t as unprepared as we thought._

Pycelle drooped, “No, Your Grace, this trial is sufficient”.

 

“Splendid, my good-woman, please continue. Maester, you will get your turn”.

 

“I have evidence, Your Grace. If you would permit me, I would like to gather it”.

 

“You have more than one piece of evidence?”

 

“Oh yes”.

 

“Very well, Ser Gerold will escort you”.

 

The woman and Ser Gerold made their way. “Your Grace, please reconsider”, pleaded Pycelle.

 

“If you think I’m going to ignore claims you committed high treason and murdered members of my family, you are thoroughly mistaken”.

 

After a while, the Kingsguard and the serving girl returned.

 

“Please present your first piece of evidence”, the Master of Laws ordered.

 

The girl displayed a book. A very old book by the looks of it. “The maester ordered me to clean his chambers not long ago and I came across this deep in his cupboards. It is a record book, Your Grace and Milords. Written in the Grand Maester’s hand himself. It shows the orders of various resources, including poisons, from the time periods in question”.

 

The King extended his hand for the book which the girl gave. “In the book, Your Grace, you can see the Grand Maester ordered moon tea, a great deal of it, at the times of Queen Rhaella’s pregnancies. The moon tea could only be used for the Queen because there were no other female members of the royal family at the time except Queen Shaera who was too old to have children by then anyhow and King Jaehaerys II was dead”. _This girl must really hate the maester. How awful are you in bed old man?_

 

“Perhaps the maester decided to simply stock up on moon tea in case servants needed to use them”, the Hand tried to counter-argue.

 

Oberyn scoffed. The King glanced up from the book to glance at him. “You have something to say Prince Oberyn?”.

_Well, not like I’ll miss the old cunt,_ “Just that it is unlikely the maester would decide to order moon tea exactly the dates Queen Rhaella would find herself pregnant”.

 

“Also, Milord, the acolytes are the ones responsible for servants whilst the Grand Maester takes care of the royal family and the small council”.

 

Oberyn eyed Pycelle. The man had his shoulders slumped and was ringing his hands. _Body language is always an indicator as to whether something is the truth. Evidently, from your body language maester, it is._

 

“Do you have further evidence to support your claims girl?”, Jon Connington asked.

 

The serving girl smiled, “Better Milord, I have someone who can attest to my claims. They told me what they found recently and I encouraged them to confess all. I called them when you asked me to gather my evidence. They’re just outside”. _I’m strangely attracted to this woman._

“Call them in”. The girl advanced to the door, gestured for the person outside to enter the chamber with her hand.

 

The small council all turned to see who it was and were surprised by the outcome. _I guess loyalty is scarce with the Grand Maester._

Pycelle’s acolyte. The man had worked for Pycelle for a long time. _Meaning he would know whenever Pycelle even took a shit._

The man and the serving girl made their way over and stood next to the other women. _Forgot they were still there. They get a free show._

“You! You, ungrateful disloyal swine! After everything I have done for you, you betray me like this”, Pycelle spat at his apprentice.

The acolyte swiftly ignored Pycelle and gave a bow to the King. “Your Grace”, he greeted.

 

“Acolyte Rodner. You are here to attest to this woman’s claims against the Grand Maester?”, the Hand asked, shocked.

 

“Yes, My Lord”, the man answered unwaveringly.

 

_Oberyn automatically rolled his eyes when the voice he hated the most in the room spoke,_ “Your Grace, if you would permit me. I would like to ask just one question to the acolyte”, Tywin Lannister directed towards the King.

 

The King took a moment before nodding his head.

 

“You are here to attest to whether the maester was involved in high treason against the crown but if these claims are true and you were aware of them then that would also implicate yourself for remaining silent. Additionally, if you were aware of high treason then you would, presumably, be aware of the maester’s carnal desires, having worked as closely with him for the time that you had, and you did nothing making you guilty of another crime”. _Trust him to throw as many people into the fire as possible._

“I’m afraid that is true, My Lord. I found out not long into my position about the activities with women committed by Grand Maester Pycelle but alas he also found out I knew and forced me into silence by threatening my family. It was not long after that that I learned of the high treason also carried out by him but I remained silent on it because he had threatened my family regarding his laying with women, imagine what he would do if he was aware that I knew about his treason?”.

 

“A lie!”, Pycelle bellowed.

 

“Silence! If you speak out of turn again, Maester, I will remove you from the chambers to the black cells”, the King ordered. He turned back to the acolyte. “How is it you know of the maester’s alleged treason against my family?”.

 

“I have been in the service of the maester since Your Grace’s grandfather’s reign. The Maester would prepare a drink for the Queen Grandmother, citing it a medicinal herbal tea to cure the sickness she would feel. The Queen would often refuse to take the tea but King Aerys would make her take it, sometimes by force, believing it to be the best for her. It was once when he made this tea after Queen Rhaella’s pregnancy with Prince Jaehaerys that I found the empty bottle of moon tea in his room which he had carelessly left. I realised the truth. I deduced he had been responsible for the Queen’s past failed pregnancies. The Queen would always fall pregnant but would either lose the child in a pool of blood, stillbirth or it would die very young after being born weak. These can all be caused by moon tea”. The acolyte looked down at the floor, “It is to my shame to admit that I remained quiet, Your Grace, because I feared for my life. Not only from the maester but also King Aerys who had fallen deep into his mental incapacity by then. Especially after what he had done to his mistress and her family simply from suspicions he held”.

 

“Well that doesn’t explain why you didn’t come forward with the truth when King Rhaegar ascended the throne?”, Stannis Baratheon asked.

 

“I was afraid the late King would believe the Grand Maester over myself. He had been in service to the royal family for a very long time and was Grand Maester whilst I was just an acolyte. But now that there are several pieces of evidence against Pycelle, not including myself, I thought I had a good chance to be believed”.

 

“How did Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys come to be born then?”, the Hand shot.

 

“As you are aware, My Lord Hand, King Aerys took great measures in preventing anything inauspicious from occurring when the Queen was pregnant with Prince Viserys. Furthermore, I also took my own measures. I would insist to the Grand Maester on being the one to take the tea to the Queen but on the way, I would dispose of it. As for Princess Daenerys, she is evidence of the maester’s crimes. She was conceived during the rebellion and was born on Dragonstone after King Rhaegar arrived in King’s Landing and sent his mother there to recuperate, where she was under the care of the maester of Dragonstone. The fact that she was born and it wasn’t Pycelle who delivered her, that the princess thrived under a different maester, highlights Pycelle’s sins”, Rodner concluded. _You could write a tale out of this._

There were no words spoken for a while.

 

“Maester, what do you have to say to defend yourself?”, the King spoke in a low gruff voice. It hardly sounded like him.

 

“I deny all claims, Your Grace. The moon tea was used on servant girls”.

 

“How do you explain the ordering of moon tea only when the Queen was with child?”.

 

“Tis doesn’t prove I poisoned the Queen though”.

 

“That is your defence?”.

 

“Your Grace, House Targaryen, I have always served House Targaryen! I have been Grand Maester under 4 Kings and served them faithfully. This should be defence enough. My word should weigh more than that of an acolyte and a serving girl”, Pycelle finished lamely.

 

“Very well, we shall make a judgement now. Lord Baratheon, what say you? Do you find Grand Maester Pycelle guilty of the charge of oath breaking?”

 

Stannis Baratheon looked at the maester who looked pathetically upon the Master of Laws. “Guilty”, the man stated resolutely.

 

“Lord Connington?”

 

The Lord of Griffin’s Roost nodded his head, “Guilty”.

“I too find the maester guilty. How do you find the maester in the charge of extortion?”

 

“Guilty”, was the reply from the Baratheon lord.

 

“Lord Connington?”

 

The Hand looked at the acolyte and the serving girl, narrowing his eyes at them. “Not guilty”, he stated firmly.

 

_Of course, oaf was always too friendly with Pycelle. Both share a dislike for my sister._

The King didn’t miss a beat before stating, “Guilty. How do you find the maester in relation to the charge of high treason by poisoning the Queen Grandmother’s womb?”

 

Stannis Baratheon appraised Pycelle, “Guilty”.

 

“Lord Hand?”

 

Connington stared unflinchingly straight ahead of himself, “Not guilty”.

“Well, it seems my decision is the deciding vote”. The King sighed, running his hand through his hair. _His black curls that he inherited from his disgraceful mother._ He eventually spoke again. “Grand Maester Pycelle, I find you guilty of the charges of high treason, extortion and oath breaking. Your sentence for oath breaking is the stripping of your office as Grand Maester of the Seven Kingdoms. Your sente...”

 

“I demand a trial by combat”. Pycelle stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. _Quick movement from a man who claims to struggle walking._

 

The King stopped midsentence. He smiled. _That doesn’t bode well for Pycelle._

“Well, that’s your prerogative. On behalf of my grandmother. I act as proxy and name Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning, as the champion of House Targaryen and the crown”, Oberyn snorted but quickly covered it up in a cough _. A king with a brain. No-one is worth naming against the Dornish Kingsguard, no-one will go against him._

There were gasps from the women standing to the side.

Pycelle visibly dejected. _I almost feel sorry for him. Emphasis on almost._

 

The aged maester began biting his lip and shaking slightly. He took a long moment to compose himself before opening his mouth, “I withdraw my request”, Pycelle mumbled.

 

The King simply nodded, “As you wish. Continuing from what I was saying. Your sentence for extortion is exile from King’s Landing”.

 

Pycelle breathed heavily.

 

“Your sentence for high treason, the destroying of royal seed, is death”.

 

“Your Grace, mercy, please! I did nothing wrong! I beg you”.

 

“Ser Barristan”, the King shouted. The Bold walked in and bowed to the King. “Take Pycelle to the black cells where he can await his execution”.

 

Ser Barristan made his way and dragged Pycelle out of the room, all the while the now dishonoured maester struggled and pleaded but to no avail.

 

“As for you Acolyte Rodner. You have also committed a crime by remaining complicit to Pycelle. However, you also prevented the death of Prince Viserys and admitted to the crime now which is better late than never. Because you admit the crime, there is no need for a trial. I will need time to time to think about your punishment. Until then, you will remain under house arrest within your own chambers. Ser Gerold, escort the acolyte to his rooms”, the King commanded.

 

Acolyte Rodner just nodded his head and closed his eyes in acceptance on his part.

 

Ser Gerold bowed and escorted the acolyte out of the room. The King dismissed the women too. Once the door shut no-one spoke for what felt like hours. Ultimately, the Hand broke the silence and faced the King.

 

“Your Grace, should we continue the small council meeting?”, Connington asked awkwardly. _Didn’t take you long to move on._

 

“Aye, the matters of state do not wait and there has already been a long interval from my father’s death to my arrival here. I want to know the state of affairs of **my** realm”. _Boy’s got balls, I’ll give him that._

Jon Connington spoke first, “The first matter at hand is the funeral, Your Grace. It will be on the morrow. The late King and Crown Prince should be cremated as soon as possible. Everything is ready for King Rhaegar’s tomb. Prince Aegon will be buried in the same tomb as his father”. _He should not be buried at all. He should be sitting at the head of the table now and when the time came years later, have his own tomb._

“Good. I wish to visit the sept later today”, the King nodded. The council murmured in agreement.

 

“Your Grace, Pycelle brought some scrolls he was going to read. Some were sent a while ago, before your arrival. Would you like me to read them?”, Ser Alliser Thorne asked, who happened to have been sitting next to Pycelle. Once he got his approval, the Lord Commander of the City Watch took the scrolls and scanned them before speaking, “His Excellency, the Viceroy Aurane of the Iron Islands sends his condolences and wishes to know if Lord Greyjoy and the lords of the Iron Islands are expected to come to the capital for your coronation?”.

 

The King didn’t miss a beat before replying, “Most definitely. My father made it clear the Iron Islands are no longer to be ignored. They will all come to the capital and swear fealty. The same goes for the lords of the Stepstones and the elected official of Lys along with Lys’ Viceroy”. _That’ll be a sight. Greyjoys bending the knee before the Iron Throne._

 

“Should I write to the citadel to request a new Maester?”, Varys piped up.

 

“No, I’ll do that myself. I want you to send the ravens to all the lords of the realm informing them to come to the capital for the coronation. They can arrive in their own time providing it’s before the coronation date”. Varys inclined his head in acknowledgement.

 

Tywin Lannister spoke for the second time in the meeting. “There are tensions with Tyrosh, Your Grace. The Archon continues to demand we relinquish control of the Stepstones. Trade between the city and the realm has deteriorated to the point where it’s all but non-existent. I can assure you that Tyrosh would be suffering far more than us, especially now that Lys is under your rule”.

 

“Your Grace, adding onto what Lord Tywin said, Lord Saan wrote that he has fought off some raids by the Tyroshi, attempting to reclaim some of the land on the Stepstones. His past ‘occupation’ seems to have allowed him to possess extensive knowledge in repelling these attacks”, the Hand ended gruffly. _That must have been difficult for him. He was one of the men against the appointment of the former pirate. Connington was always so narrow-minded._

 

“Tyrosh continues to be a problem”, the King said more to himself than the council. “Monitor the situation closely. I want regular updates”, he directed the latter at the Hand and Master of Coin.

 

“Certainly, Your Grace”, came the reply from both. Ser Gerold also returned and resumed his position next to the King.

 

“A riot broke out on your arrival here, Your Grace, it was swiftly dealt with by the city watch but the perpetrators who caused it decided to take advantage of the absence of a ruler amidst the confusion. The King’s justice took care of them”, Ser Alliser informed.

 

“Aye, good”. Jaehaerys seemed to be in thought before continuing, “I want the food remaining from the funeral to be distributed to each family, or individual in the absence of a family, to ease their minds and assure them that the change in power will not have negative effects on them. A larger portion is to be given out to the orphanages and elderly”. _Generous. He’s clearly learnt to keep the people on side._ “If that is all, My Lords?”.

 

“Oh, one last thing, Your Grace. Would you like to me to inform the King’s justice about Pycelle so he can prepare?”.

 

“No”, came the immediate reply from the monarch. “I sentenced him so I will carry out the execution. I won’t hide behind some unknown man. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword”. _And here come the disagreements._

 

“But, Your Grace, that isn’t the way here”.

 

“Well, it is now”.

 

“But….”

 

The King spoke over everyone, “If that’s all”, he said in a loud voice. The King stood up. Everyone followed his example and bowed to him as he left the chamber with Ser Gerold behind him.

 

_Well, he certainly made an impression._

 

* * *

 

**The Eldest Princess**

“I’m counting the days Lyra returns. I do very much miss her”, the eldest princess of the dynasty stated.

 

She was taking a stroll through the palace gardens with her 3 ladies-in-waiting. Rhaenys was walking a little ahead with one of her ladies, Roslin Frey, arm in arm. Her other two ladies, Myranda Royce and Cerenna Lannister were walking behind, gossiping about something or the other. _Most likely Myranda’s latest encounter with Harrold Hardyng._

Whilst Rhaenys liked all her ladies, she only truly thought of Lyra and Roslin as her true friends.

The gardens had been greatly developed and expanded since her grandmother had become Queen Mother. Planting new flowers and plants, importing some from the east. With her grandmother’s efforts, the gardens of the Red Keep were now home to the most exotic looking plants and fruits. A glasshouse had been built for the plants that couldn’t grow outside. A large section of the garden had been reserved for the sole use of the royal family and their friends. _It’s also a good location to get away from the court._

“I do too. It will be good to have conversation that isn’t about men”, Roslin mumbled dryly. Rhaenys smiled. _A reference to the two women behind._

“Yes that, and I’m very interested in her stories about my mother’s homeland. It will be nice to hear some cheerful tales”.

 

“Not to mention the gifts she will hopefully bring”, Roslin managed to get out amongst her laughing.

 

Rhaenys giggled, “Of course, trust you to look at how it will benefit you”.

 

“Well, we aren’t all princesses who have an abundance of dresses and jewellery. Speaking of, where did you get that headband? It’s beautiful with the diamonds. I’ve never seen anything like it”.

 

Rhaenys hesitated before replying, “It was a gift from father, one of the last ones he gave me. He brought it from Lys”.

 

“Oh”. Roslin squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry”.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous”. She took a deep breath. “It has gotten easier. I guess mother was right. Time is an effective healer. The pain is still there and I don’t think it will ever go away but I’m able to live with it”, she plastered a smile on to reassure her friend.

 

They stopped when they heard voices ahead.

 

“I wonder who that is”, Roslin observed.

 

When they turned on the pathway, they received their answer. For her sister Alyssa and Alyssa’s cousins, Sansa, Robb, Bran and Arya were there along with the Greyjoy boy. Rhaenys’ thoughts dwelt on the youngest Stark sister. How she had transformed from the moody rude girl they had initially met to now be following Alyssa around wherever she went. _At least she found a friendly face and Alyssa will be happy._

The Stark and Greyjoy heirs were sparring whilst the girls and the youngest Stark were playing with the 5 direwolves.

 

As she and her ladies approached, one of the guards announced her, “Make way for Her Royal Highness, Princess Rhaenys!”. The activity stopped as the Starks and Greyjoy all gave a quick bow and curtsy.

 

“You come to spar with us, Your Royal Highness? Or is the fear of dirtying your pretty dress too great?”, the Greyjoy boy quipped. He was eyeing her and her ladies up. _Great, another lecher. I’ll have to put him in his place._

“My Lord, is that anyway to speak to a princess? I’m not some common woman that you will be so familiar with”. The Kraken’s smile fell and he began to redden. The Stark heir smirked at his friend’s rebuttal whilst Arya just loudly called him stupid.

 

“My apologies, princess. I spoke out of turn”, the Greyjoy responded. _He’s not used to hearing no from women._

“Anyway, judging by your performance just now, there really wasn’t much to fear”. There was a collective series of sniggering.

 

Just then gasps came from her ladies. Myranda and Cerenna backed away whilst Roslin grabbed Rhaenys’ arm to pull her away too.

 

Rhaenys freed her arm from Roslin’s grip and stood firm. _Don’t show fear. Don’t show fear,_ Rhaenys kept repeating to herself. For one of the direwolves had decided to approach them, directly for the princess.

 

Roslin backed away, moving towards the other ladies.

 

“Greywind, stop”, ordered the Stack heir but the direwolf chose to ignore his master, either his curiosity was too great or he wanted to merely misbehave.

 

Greywind trotted slowly towards the princess, wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out, panting heavily. _I’m a dragon and dragons don’t cower to wolves. Wolves bow to dragons._

She hesitantly extended her hand, what force made her do this was unknown but she did it nevertheless.

 

Greywind stopped in front of her. _Gods, he’s the size of small a horse._ He started sniffing her. _Well, I hope he likes the smell of roses and peaches._

Evidently, he did because he gave a yap and began licking her hand. Rhaenys gave a breathy laugh and stroked Greywind behind the ear which he clearly liked as he closed his eyes and leaned into her stroke.

 

“I’ve never seen him so relaxed around a stranger. He seems to possess a soft spot for you, Your Royal Highness”, Greywind’s master said in his thick northern accent.

 

She smiled at him, continuing her stroking, “I’m glad, for the alternative would be one hand less”. She was rewarded with a deep laugh from Robb Stark and the other individuals present.

 

“Your Royal Highness, do you have any idea when the King will be finished with the small council meeting?”, Greyjoy enquired.

 

She shook her head, “I’m afraid not. The meeting can vary from a few minutes to hours”.

 

She was about to continue before she was interrupted by a page boy who bowed to herself and her sister, “Your Royal Highness, Queen Elia summons you to her chambers”.

 

She sighed before ending her affection with the direwolf which didn’t seem to appreciate that from the sour look it gave her. “Well, I’ll bid you all farewell. Gooday”. She then made her way to her mother’s chambers, with her ladies following behind.

 

“You are all dismissed for now. My mother will want to speak to me alone”, she addressed her ladies. They gave her a curtsy before leaving.

 

She resumed her journey, walking past Lord Redwyne who seemed to be in a rush, _the small council meeting must be over._ The princess was about to turn into a hallway when she heard voices. She stopped to observe what was occurring, putting her back against the wall, she listened. It was her grandmother’s chief lady-in-waiting, Lady Selyse Florent, conversing with the Grand Maester’s serving girl. Rhaenys caught them mid-conversation.

 

“…..thanks you for your efforts and hopes the preparation paid off?” Lady Selyse asked, her eyebrows raised.

 

The serving girl quickly responded in the positive, “Most certainly”.

 

“Very well, here”, she abruptly handed the servant a small pouch and shooed her away. Once the serving girl scuttled off, Rhaenys made her presence known. She walked down the hallway whilst Lady Selyse curtsied to her. “Your Royal Highness”, she greeted.

 

Rhaenys inclined her head, “My Lady. What are you doing here? My grandmother’s chambers are on the other side”. _Best not reveal what I witnessed._

“I was just on my way to the Rookery to deliver a raven, princess”. _You little liar. To think I just thought you were a stuck-up wench._

“Very well, on your way”. The Florent quickly left. _Strange. I’ll find out what’s happening._

 

* * *

 

She entered her mother’s chamber after receiving approval.

 

“You wished to speak to me mother?”. Queen Elia was sat at the settee in front of her fireplace.

 

“Yes, Rhaenys, take a seat”. She patted the space next to her. Rhaenys obeyed and sat next to her mother.

 

Elia took a deep breath before beginning, “There’s no easy way to say this, Rhaenys, but recent information has come to light and…..and it points to the fact that your father and brother were both”, a tear ran down Elia’s cheek. Rhaenys started to get worried now, “they were both killed, my daughter. The attack was orchestrated by someone greater. The pirates were a tool, pawns to be used”, she finished in a whisper.

 

She thought she had misheard at first or that this was some sick joke but her mother remained stoic. “How do you know?”. She didn’t want to entertain this notion her mother had adopted. It would breathe life into this horrible lie. That someone had knowingly betrayed her father and brother.

 

“I can’t reveal that”.

 

“You can’t or you won’t? I’m your daughter!”.

 

“Please respect me on this. I cannot tell you yet but I will in due course”. Rhaenys glared at the Dornish Queen but eventually nodded her head.

 

“We need to discover who was responsible. Starting with motives. Who had to gain from this?”. Her mother was looking at her strangely. She knew that look.

 

“No”, Rhaenys stated firmly.

 

“I wasn’t even implying…”

 

“Yes, you were. You raised Jaehaerys alongside myself, Aegon and Alyssa. You always made it a point to reinforce to us that he and Alyssa were not to be treated differently. That we were all equal. You would sing to him and tell him stories to cheer him up when he was ill. He loved Aegon. How can you even think he would have a hand in this!”.

 

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry but I couldn’t help it. Once the thought entered my mind, I tried to make it leave but it wouldn’t go. It began to fester. Despite telling myself he would never, it still refused to disappear. I raised him, yes, but he has been in the north for years and gods know how that changed him. However, I know that…..”, Rhaenys cut her mother off.

 

“If you ask me to choose between you and my brother. To choose between you and my King then I will **never** forgive you for making me make that choice”.

 

“I would never ask it of you! As much as I’m furious that Aegon was robbed of his opportunity and birth right, that it does bother me that Jon is now the King **instead** of Aegon. But I was going to say that I know Jaehaerys had nothing to do with it, the rational side of my mind knows this. I raised him myself and know he is much too like your father. I also know Lord Stark would never influence him like that. As much as I loathe the Stark name I am not blind. I am aware Lord Stark’s reputation speaks for itself. He is honourable. However, I cannot say the same of the other northerners nor anyone who would want Jaehaerys on the throne. If they were responsible, it would be without Jon’s knowledge”.

 

“Shouldn’t we inform Jon?”

 

“I fear for his life too. If Jon dies, Daeron will be King and it will be the end of you and myself. No, we can’t tell him yet. We need to actually find some evidence of who’s responsible first. You need to keep your eyes and ears listening at all times. Anything out of the ordinary. I will do the same”.

 

The princess nodded. A heavy burden settling on her shoulders. Her thoughts going back to the gardens. _I wish I were back with the direwolf._

 

* * *

 

**The Lannister Queen**

Second best. She was always treated as second best.

 

_I used to dream about wielding a sword but father put an end to that dream before it ever started._ Her initial dreams were of ruling Casterly Rock but, like her sword dreams, they were cut short when she was placed as second best after Jaime. When she was told she would never rule but only marry a man who would. She had swallowed her anger at the injustice of it all and focused on more ‘appropriate’ dreams.

 

Were her new dreams too ambitious? Yes, they were. But isn’t that what dreams were meant to be? Ambitious? They were hardly dreams otherwise. Ever since she was a little girl who was told by her father she could not wield a sword but that she would be Queen one day, she had started to dream of being Queen. Of marrying the handsome prince and having beautiful Targaryen-Lannister children who would one day rule after her husband _and herself_. Was that not normal? Every girl dreamt of this! If they state otherwise, they are lying.

This was a cruel world where women were automatically made second class citizens because they didn’t have a cock between their legs. She had no choice but to adapt to it. Being ambitious wasn’t wrong. Every maiden wants to be Queen and have her son on the throne one day.

 

She did get her beautiful husband and the title of queen. _But **A** Queen not **The** Queen. _ The second queen. _Some even whispered of how she was the third._

Elia was made the official lady of the court. She would carry out the tasks of the queen whilst Cersei was side-lined. _Second best to that Dornish slut. Second best to that Stark bitch. They were nothing compared to me. I come from the second most powerful house in the kingdoms and I’m the most beautiful. They both look like serving wenches besides me._

_Second best. Even that’s a lie. I was third or fourth best. The old cunt had more power than myself or Elia combined. As much as I despise her, her power is something I envy._ Queen Rhaella had held more power than any Queen Mother in history. She had established her own network of spies, she had many of the lords and state officials in her palm and a reputation that was known across the realm. _Not to mention her own private treasury._

 

If Cersei had been given the chance then she would have been a good queen. A good wife, mother and queen _,_ _plus empress,_ to the people. Everyone would bow down to her. Everyone who had ever crossed her, denied her, slighted her or even looked at her in the wrong way. _Even father and Jaime._

_Jaime._ The thought of him made her conflicted. On the one hand, she still remembered how he struck her. She had intentionally provoked him because the thought that he was more loyal to the Stark boy was too much. That he would choose anyone else over herself was like a knife in the heart. It was meant to be her and Jaime against the world. They had come into the world **together** and they were destined to face the world **together**. She thought he would do anything for her but when he refused it felt like a slap in the face. _Well, literally._ She knew how to antagonise him. She had grown up with him so of course she would know which buttons to press. He had never liked the idea of her and Rhaegar and she had used that against him.

 

However, on the other hand she dearly missed him. It had been years since she had seen him and now Rhaegar had gone too, she was all alone. She needed his support. The protection he would provide to her children. They would need allies. _But I will never_ _be the one to approach him. He must come to me. A queen does not submit._

 

She had wanted to provide her children with the best of everything. Unlike herself. For Visenya to become a powerful woman in her own right. For Daeron to take the throne that should be his. He would be a better ruler than either the whelps birthed by the Dornish or Stark women. House Lannister would finally receive the recognition they deserved. _And she wouldn’t be second best to anyone. Father would see I’m the better child than Jaime._

Most importantly, Daeron would be safe. If he were King, no-one would dare try to harm or use him. He would be insusceptible from all outside influence because he would be the one to dictate terms.

 

“Your Grace, the King is in his first small council meeting today”, her lady-in-waiting, Joanna Swyft chimed. The girl was a good servant. She was loyal to Cersei and her children which was the only reason Cersei tolerated her. Cersei had told her other ladies-in-waiting to wait outside and leave her alone. _Prancing around like ridiculous hens, with nary a thought._

 

“I would be very much interested in knowing what is discussed but my father would never tell me. Ridiculous, as he would not even be in his position were it not for myself”, Cersei declared in a haughty manner. “Alas, not a problem, Pycelle can fill me in later. That creature is loyal to House Lannister”.

 

“I pray the King has an awful meeting. That he finds it overwhelming and everyone sees how out of depth he is”, her daughter Visenya said vehemently. Cersei was proud of her daughter. She understood the danger her brother was now in. The vulnerable position Daeron was in and the need to now protect him from those who wish ill fate upon him. _Poor Daeron is oblivious of everything. He’s far too young to understand the seriousness of the situation._ Visenya recognised her position to support her mother and brother. _They needed to stick together more than ever._

 

“Verily Visenya”, Cersei reinforced. “May the gods grant that”.

 

Conversation ceased after the knock on the door.

 

“Enter”.

 

A Lannister guard entered and bowed, “Your Grace, I’ve been notified of several pieces of news”.

 

Cersei waited for the guard, “Well! Out with it then”.

 

The guard recoiled but promptly composed himself. “Pycelle was seen being escorted towards the dungeons by Ser Barristan Selmy from the small council chamber. He was shouting he was innocent”.

 

“Innocent of what?”, Visenya asked. _Took the words out of my mouth._

 

“I’m unware, Your Royal Highness”. _Helpful._

 

_What has that bumbling incompetent idiot done?_ Cersei held no love for the old maester but he was her eyes and ears on the council considering her father believed it was unimportant to keep her informed.

 

She embraced a neutral face, “What was the other news you had?”.

 

“Oh, yes. The Tyrells have arrived. Last seen heading to the Maidenvault”, the man finished.

 

“Hardly news. We were expecting them”. _They’ve surely come to sniff around the new King._ _But what can you expect from upstarts?_ “Is that all?”.

 

The guard nodded. Cersei waved her hand to dismiss him. After the guard had bowed and left she breathed in and out deeply. _There’s no choice but to demand father tell me what is happening._

“Come with me”. She immediately started making her way towards her father’s solar, her daughter and Joanna falling into step behind her. Her other ladies-in-waiting joining behind when she passed them.

 

They had barely made work on their destination before they were intercepted.

 

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._ She stopped right opposite of her Dornish rival. Her ladies curtseying to her whilst Elia’s companions did the same to herself and Visenya.

 

“Cersei”, the Dornish Queen greeted.

 

“Elia”, she returned. _Might as well ruin her mood._

 

Cersei intertwined her fingers and placed them on her stomach, making sure to place the hand on which she wore her ring on top, in order to clearly display the piece of jewellery. _A gift from Rhaegar. A gift that made Elia furious with him._

Elia’s eye instantly went to her hand then back to her face, her mouth becoming a tight line in the course.

 

“How are you? That debacle in the ballroom with the Stark boy can’t have been good for you?”, Elia said with a smile. _Bitch._

Cersei smirked before retorting, “A simple misunderstanding that’s in the past now. I see that you hurriedly moved your focus from your son’s death to the new King. What a long mourning period you had”.

 

“How dare you! Just because I chose to behave in a dignified manner and not act viciously towards children, like yourself, makes me the better woman, **a better Queen** ”, Cersei balled her fists whilst Elia shook her head with a chuckle. “No wonder Rhaegar would come to **me** for council. You should watch yourself. The new King has more respect for me than you”. _Oh, I’ll wipe that smirk off your face, you Dornish hussy._

 

“You’re right. My apologies. I should watch myself. Even though Rhaegar did come to you for council, it was **my** bed he would come to at night”, Cersei gave a small laugh.

 

Elia’s smile was swiftly replaced with a scowl. “Well, now you can no longer whisper in his ear but just your pillow in your empty bed”.

 

Cersei continued laughing, “Oh, you would know all about empty beds, wouldn’t you? Yours being vacant for years”. There was a soft snort from Joanna at her words. _Good, let the Martell drown in her bitterness._

“Anyway, some of us have better thing to do than socialise in the hallways”. Cersei breezed past Elia, without looking back. _A sun is no match for a lioness._

 

* * *

Once they all reached her father’s solar the guard on duty told her that her father was still in the meeting so she commanded her ladies to wait outside and herself and Visenya entered the room to wait.

 

Her father’s solar was much like the one back at Casterly Rock. Lannister banners and tapestries adorned the walls with plush red carpets and rich elaborate furniture. Cersei took a seat in one of the chairs whilst Visenya looked out of the balcony.

 

Her father eventually arrived. _About time._

He didn’t bother acknowledging the occupants of the room until he sat behind his desk. He folded his hands before looking at her. “Cersei, Visenya. What can I do for you?”.

 

_There’s no point beating around the bush,_ “I want to know what happened in the small council meeting today? Why was Pycelle taken to the dungeons?”.

 

“He was foolish in his conduct and got dragged down because of said conduct”, Tywin stated plainly.

 

“What conduct?”.

 

“Tis not appropriate talk in front of my granddaughter”, the Master of Coin said, devout of any emotion.

 

“It will be public knowledge soon enough”, Cersei rebuffed.

 

Tywin frowned, clearly disapproving of his daughter’s questioning of him. “If that is the case then you will know soon enough”.

 

Cersei opened her mouth to argue but was silenced with her father raising his hand. “He committed a crime. That is all you need to know”, Tywin quickly turned his attention to Visenya, “How are your studies?”.

 

“They are advancing well, grandfather. I have nearly mastered High Valyrian”, Visenya said with excitement.

 

“Very good. You must continue with them as they will benefit yourself and increase your prestige when finding a match”.

 

“Now I need to speak to your mother alone. Please return to your chambers”. Her daughter nodded and left the room, her father watching her leave. _She reminds father of mother._

As soon as the door shut her father whipped his head to face her, “Your behaviour at the welcoming feast was disgraceful. Unbecoming of a Queen”, the Lord of Casterly Rock hissed.

 

Cersei’s eyes widened, “the wolf almost disfigured your grandson!”.

 

“Stop being so melodramatic. Daeron is a growing boy. Soon he will be a man. He doesn’t need his mother hiding him behind her skirts”.

 

She was going to respond but the look her father gave her muted her immediately. “Now more than ever you need to act smartly. The new King isn’t as incompetent and weak as we were led to believe. The meek quiet boy we last saw is no longer there, instead replaced with a young man eager to prove himself. To forge his own legacy like his ancestors”. Her father stood and went to the wine table, pouring two glasses. “Elia Martell had the right mind of things. She cared for the boy in his youth and now that he’s in power, her kindness will only benefit her”. Cersei seethed at her father’s condescending words. _Even father thinks I’m second best to Elia._ He returned to the desk, sitting down and handing her one of the glasses.

 

“My position isn’t as secure as initially thought. The King may want to create his own small council, not continue on with his father’s”.

 

“But wouldn’t that be a slight?”.

 

“Not necessarily, depending on how the King executes it. As for myself, it wouldn’t be a slight for the King to ask me to return to Casterly Rock. I’m a Lord Paramount and Warden of the West. My daughter was a Queen, my grandson is the heir to the throne and I served the council for many years. Not to mention with Rhaella behind the King, who knows what they’ll pull. Particularly after the farce that occurred this morning”. He took a sip.

 

“Pycelle was removed from office and has been sentenced to death for the murder of Queen Rhaella’s dead children. He has been our creature for a long time and knows information about us that could entrap our house. No, he needs to be with dealt with. No doubt, the King will want to question him for more information. We must silence Pycelle before he does”. He took a swing of wine, Cersei copying her father. She was shaking slightly and hoped the arbor gold would calm her nerves. _Father will take care of it. He always does._

 

“We must look at all alternatives. I’m going to summon Tyrion here”. Cersei choked while swallowing, her father looking down at her.

 

“Why are you summoning that monster?”, disgust dripping from her voice.

 

“You will find out soon enough”. Another sip. “As I was saying, looking at all options includes the new King. The Tyrells have arrived and will no doubt be reminding him of his late brother’s betrothal to Margaery Tyrell. However, if he is given the choice of another bride, another **more powerful** bride then it only works in our favour. It is good to keep that option open, if required”.

 

Cersei wrinkled her brows in confusion, “I don’t follow”.

 

“Of course, you don’t”. Tywin raised his glass to his lips and spoke once more before drinking, his eyes looking directly at Cersei, “Keep Visenya close”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Visenya is 12 years old. Jon is 17 years old (same as the show).
> 
> Please leave a comment as it really motivates me! I do read all comments. 
> 
> Subscribe and kudos :)


	7. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funeral day and an exceptionally difficult time for some of the royal family. Jon discovers more about the relationship between his father and mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, hope you're all enjoying this heatwave if you live in Europe. I know I am! 
> 
> Just a reminder but remember that Benjen was sent as a ward to King's Landing and later sent, by Rhaegar, to Summerhall to oversee the reconstruction. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**The Dragon Queen**

Pressure. That’s what Rhaella felt. An intense pressure on her chest that would not leave. It had settled since she read that dreaded raven that announced her child’s death. _Has it really only been weeks? It feels like so much longer._ That pressure had numbed but now it was more prominent than ever. She was cremating her son today and entombing his remains. _A mother should never have to bury her child._

 

Rhaella loved her children, Viserys and Daenerys. However, Rhaegar was her first-born. The child that bore her much joy when she lost multiple children afterwards. Her source of escapism. Escapism from her ‘beloved’ brother-husband. He was also the cause of her freedom from her husband’s chains. She became free and was able to live her life how she wished after Rhaegar became King.

 

Her tenure as Queen Mother allowed her to protect her children from outside influences who wished to impair her son’s reign. It allowed her to forge contacts and participate in activities that she desired. She had started by removing all the spies within her royal household. Only people loyal to the King _and herself_ were allowed to remain. She appointed people she trusted into the positions of power within the household. Creatures that belonged to Lannisters, Martells, Tyrells and any other houses were swiftly dealt with. Unfortunately, she could not remove people who directly worked for the other lords but she had restricted their access into Maegor’s Holdfast and the palace in general, making sure her own people kept an eye on the spies.

 

She had placed spies in strategic locations, not just within the city, but the realm as a whole. _The less I depend on that self-serving spymaster, the better._ She had recruited well established businesses to serve her. Chataya the upscale brothel owner and Tobho Mott, the blacksmith to name a few.

 

Rhaella was aware the intelligent ones such as Tywin Lannister and Doran Martell knew she was behind the drastic change in servants of the palace but alas they could not interfere because her position as Queen Mother entailed the running of the Red Keep.

 

Implying to Rhaegar that Alliser Thorne should be made Commander of the City Watch was a move she was proud of on her part, eliminating the Lannister puppet that previously occupied the position. A slight suggestion that Stannis Baratheon should be named Master of Laws. _Say what you want about the man, he has absolute loyalty to the royal family._ _It’s his loyalty that will protect us if required. His lack of humour is irrelevant._

 

Rhaella had familiarised herself with the passages of the Red Keep. _I grew up here, I already had a good knowledge but not as good as others – spiders._ She had shared her knowledge with her second son and daughter as well as her two eldest granddaughters and forbidden them from sharing this information with anyone. _Best keep this in the family._ However, she had told some of her loyal spies some of the routes to allow them to gather information.

 

Her charity work had greatly helped the impoverished parts of the city. Rhaella had opened a food kitchen in Flea Bottom to allow for the care of the hungry, she had stressed the importance of charity work to her family. That, because they were born into this privileged life, they had a duty to their people. To provide the best standard of life possible for them. To ensure they have access to all necessities of life. Her daughter and granddaughters heeded her encouragements and were prominent for their charity work as well as her first good-daughter Elia, naturally from her Queenly duties. Cersei, she did little and even then, one can tell it is for appearance sake rather than actual caring.

 

The Old Queen appraised herself in the looking glass. She examined the black marks under her eyes from the lack of sleep. The wrinkles near her eyes. Her hair to the outside eye looked the same. _One of the benefits of having silver hair._ But she knew better. She could see the grey hairs that had arrived with age. _And stress._

At least there is now one stress less. _The revolting old man has been rightly thrown into the cells._ If I could get my hands on him I would find the most creative ways to torture him. Death is far too kind. Alas, her grandson had already sentenced him and she was not about to undermine his decision. She remembered her conversation last night with the King.

 

Her had hesitantly entered her room, dismissed the other occupants and ordered no interruptions. Jaehaerys had sat her on the bed; himself sitting beside her, and held her hand, giving it a kiss. _Sweet boy, I already know what you are going to say._

 

“Grandmother, I…..I don’t know how to say what I need to say”, Jaehaerys managed to get out amidst biting his lip.

 

“My winged-wolf, I find just saying it outright is the best solution. It doesn’t lessen the blow to drag the issue out”.

 

Jaehaerys took a deep breath before opening his mouth, “Grand Maester Pycelle had been poisoning your womb. He was the one responsible for your deceased children”.

 

_I know._ Rhaella had suspected as much a very long time ago. She had shared her fears with Aerys but he had dismissed her thoughts as ‘women’s hysteria’. She had planned on killing Pycelle during Rhaegar’s reign, just a simple ‘accident’. Unfortunately, Rhaegar discovered her plot and put an end to it. She couldn’t tell him the reasons behind the assassination attempt without evidence. Then along came Pycelle’s serving girl with a book. _The gods finally decided to shine a light on me._

 

Rhaella realised it had been a while and she had not replied, “I see”.

 

Jaehaerys scrunched his face, “I see? Do you understand what I told you?”.

 

“I…. I do. The truth is I suspected this very early on but had no proof to support my suspicions”. The Queen Grandmother allowed a fear tears to leak. _One of the weapons a woman possesses._

Jaehaerys wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Rhaella felt slightly guilty but she needed for this to happen. Jaehaerys needed to make a decision himself without interference from her. He had to form his own conclusion about Pycelle. _I merely pushed the evidence towards him._ _This was a matter about my children, I could not stay completely silent. _She released a few sobs before speaking once again, “I wish to be alone, My King. Just to compose myself”.

He released her, “Are you sure?”.

 

She nodded. He squeezed her hand before making his exit. Once the door shut, Rhaella wiped the tears. _Good riddance to the old twat._ She felt vindicated. _Justice._ She had gained some justice for her murdered children.

 

Rhaella broke out of her thoughts and returned to the present. She was adorned in a black dress with a long veil covering her face; a black bejewelled necklace and her family’s ruby-diamond ring. A ring that had been passed down to every Queen, right from Good Queen Alysanne to herself. _I was meant to pass it on to Elia or Cersei but I’m not dead yet. I’ll hand it to Jaehaerys’ Queen when the time comes. _

“Are the others ready?”, she enquired whilst smoothing out her dress. She had just finished speaking when the bells from the Red Keep followed by the Sept of Baelor started tolling to alert the city of the imminent funeral.

 

“Yes, Your Grace. Except Princess Daenerys”, Selyse Baratheon replied. _Of course, she is always the last._ _Better see what the delay is._

Rhaella left her chambers and started making her way to her daughter’s chamber, her ladies following behind. Once she reached Daenerys’ room she knocked and entered, ordering her ladies to wait outside.

 

Daenerys was sitting at in her chair in front of her vanity table with Margaery Tyrell adjusting a necklace onto the princess’s neck. Her daughter’s other ladies waiting behind.

 

When they all noticed her presence, they gave a curtsey with Daenerys standing up and doing the same.

 

“Leave me with my daughter”, she commanded. The women started to make their way to the exit.

 

Once she was alone with Daenerys she made her way towards her, lifted her veil and motioned for her to sit. She picked up the hairbrush and started untangling the knots.

 

Rhaella enjoyed these moments with her daughter. She knew her child enjoyed when she brushed her hair but what she did not know was that this was equally important to Rhaella. Her mother, Queen Shaera, had done the same for herself.

 

“I need you, Rhaenys and Alyssa to behave your best in your roles as princesses of the dynasty today. Attend to the nobility as I have taught you. His Grace has ordered the food from the funeral feast to be distributed to the people and you will hand them out”. Rhaella stopped brushing Daenerys’ hair and began plaiting it. “You and your nieces will also hand out some coin immediately after the funeral”. She received a nod from her daughter.

 

The Queen glanced at the princess through the mirror, “You snuck out again”, Rhaella stated nonchalantly.

 

She felt Daenerys stiffen. _So, it’s true._

 

“I have told you before that you are not to sneak out into the city. I have no problem with you visiting the orphanages, in fact I encourage it. I’m proud my daughter holds great interest in the people but it is dangerous to go and not inform anyone about it”. She felt her child’s shoulders relax. _Did she think I was talking about something else?_

“Apologies mother, I will inform you next time. Though I did get the idea from you when you shared your story of how you did it when you were a princess”, Daenerys stated wryly.

 

Rhaella lightly smacked her daughter’s head in jest. “Is that anyway to speak to the woman who gave you life?”, a smile on her face.

 

Daenerys giggled, warming Rhaella’s heart. It reminded her of the little girl running through the hallways of the Red Keep who would demand every person she passed, kiss her hand. She hoped her daughter always continued to laugh. _I pray to the gods she doesn’t ever experience a life like mine. No, not pray, I will ensure she doesn’t have a miserable life like I did._

 

Looking at her daughter now she could see gone was the little girl and replacing her was a beautiful woman who would one day be leaving her to go to her husband’s castle, whomever he may be.

 

_Today really is making me sentimental._

She finished styling Daenerys’ hair, placed a jewelled headpiece atop her head then pulled her daughter’s and her own veils down. “Come, the others are ready too”.

 

* * *

 

The royal family were preparing to leave from the Red Keep for the Sept of Baelor. The female royals all wore veils covering their face. They began entering the carriage which would escort them to the location. As they were entering, a small quiet voice spoke up.

 

“I want to ride on a horse too like Uncle and Jaehaerys”, Daeron piped up.

 

“You’re too young for that yet, Daeron. Maybe when you’re older”, his mother replied.

 

“Come, Daeron you can sit next to me”, Visenya tried to pull her brother into the carriage but he resisted, prying his arm free.

 

“No, I want to ride a horse! I’m bigger now. Bran is riding a horse, I can too”.

 

It was Viserys who chimed in, “Let the boy ride. I don’t see the problem”.

 

“Aye, go get a horse for the prince”, Jaehaerys commanded. Daeron beamed at his brother and started jumping up and down. Rhaella gave a firm nod in approval. _Good, the more time he spends with Jaehaerys and Viserys, the better. I’m sure they’re more pleasant company than the Lannister Queen._

Rhaella looked at Cersei who remained stoic. _At least she knows not to make a scene in public again._

Once the horse arrived and Daeron was saddled, they all started making their way to the Sept. Jaehaerys at the head of the procession with Viserys and Daeron slightly behind. The carriage with the three Queens and four princesses following behind. The five Kingsguard were riding on either side of the party with Ser Evin, now the head of the Household Guard, following behind with his men. Ser Alliser and the City Watch were aligned on the streets to prevent a riot and people from getting too close.

 

Chants were shouted as the royal party advanced towards their destination.

 

“Long live King Jaehaerys”, Rhaella smiled when she heard that. There were also praises thrown at herself, “May the gods protect Queen Rhaella” as well as Elia and the princesses. Rhaella even heard some for Cersei.

 

Once they reached the Sept of Baelor, the women all left the carriage and reunited with the King and Princes. Jaehaerys inclined his head at the guards and they opened the doors.

 

Everyone stood, bowing and curtseying as they all made their way to the front. Rhaella caught sight of the coffins. They were open just enough so the top half of the bodies could be seen. Rhaegar and Aegon were holding their swords whilst Rhaegar’s crown was placed on the lid of his coffin. This was the first time she was seeing them as she had refused offers beforehand. _It would have made this nightmare all the more real._

 

_Oh, my son._ She could feel faint but then an arm gripped hers. She turned to find Daenerys holding her up as they walked to their seats. She scanned the room and let out a relieved breath. _Luckily, no-one noticed my almost tumble._

They eventually sat. Jaehaerys in a decorative chair which had dragons carved into it and Rhaella in a similar but smaller seat next to him. Viserys and Daeron sat next to herself followed by Elia and Cersei, the princesses at the end.

 

The High Septon stood on the podium at the front of the Sept, between the gigantic statues of the Father and Mother. That’s when sound ceased entering Rhaella’s ears. She just stared at the coffin of her son. Her son whom she would never see again. His melancholy broody face. She would never hear his voice. Never hear the word “mother” from his voice again.

 

The Queen Grandmother hadn’t realised she was shaking until Viserys held her hand and squeezed it. She returned the gesture. She knew she should be fully paying attention to the High Septon’s words but her body betrayed her in that regard. Her hearing would come and go, hearing some of the man’s words. She would hear some of the words then only a throbbing in her ears. _My heartbeat?_ She didn’t know.

 

“King Rhaegar, first of his name”. **Thump thump** , “born during a tragedy, amidst the death of his great grandfather King Aegon V, great-grandmother Queen Betha and Prince Duncan”. **Thump.** “Exceptional mind for retaining knowledge and skilled with a sword”. **Thump thump.** “Defeated the usurper”. **Thump.** “Ascended the throne in a war-torn realm”. **Thump.** “Conquered the Stepstones”. **Thump.** “Defeated the Lysene”. **Thump thump.** “Leaving behind five children”.

 

Words were spoken for Aegon. Rhaella believes she could recall Elia crying but she can’t be sure. The thumping noises prevented her from being sure.

 

All too soon Jaehaerys and Viserys stood along with Connington, Stannis, Arthur Dayne and Renly Baratheon; raising Rhaegar’s coffin and moving it towards the burning chamber. A chamber designed for the burning of members of the royal family. Deep pits built in the chamber to allow the fire to easily be controlled and contained. Jaehaerys and Viserys then moved to do the same with Aegon’s coffin. Oberyn and Quentyn Martell joining them. _Doran Martell must have arrived too._

 

Once done, they returned to their seats and watched the doors to the burning chamber slowly close.

 

Queen Rhaella Targaryen watched her first child and eldest son, Rhaegar Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Emperor of the Stepstones & Lys and Protector of the Realm, for the final time.

 

* * *

 

**The Heir to Winterfell**

Everyone was making the return journey back to the Red Keep for the funeral feast. Robb was astride his horse with Bran besides him.

 

Arya had implored him to allow her to also ride a horse but he had refused. She continued to be persistent and he was about to lose his patience with her when their cousin Alyssa had thankfully interceded. She had managed to convince Arya to travel in the carriage, citing that now was not a good time to make demands and promising to go riding later.

 

Arya seemed to respect Alyssa because his sister had heeded the princesses’ words.

 

The princesses had handed out coin to the people outside of the sept and were greatly praised. He had watched with admiration as they asked the people questions about their children and their health. Enquired whether their profession was progressing suitably.

 

The Heir to Winterfell witnessed Princess Rhaenys pick up a little girl in her arms and ask after her mother. _She evidently does this regularly enough to know specific individuals._ The little girl and princess laughed at something followed by the girl adorning a purple rose in Rhaenys’ hair. Robb couldn’t help but notice the flower really highlighted her amethyst eyes. The princess gave the girl some coins and put her back on the ground. _She is always so elegant and graceful in her conduct._

“Stark, what are you waiting for? Your name day? Come on!”; Theon Greyjoy barked, slapping Robb on the shoulder.

 

Robb broke out of his trance and jumped onto his horse, saddling himself, then they all made their return journey to the Red Keep for the funeral feast.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to quietly slink out of here and visit this new brothel I heard about. Chataya’s brothel. Want to join?”, the Greyjoy heir enquired, the latter said in jest, knowing what the answer would be.

 

“No thanks. You enjoy yourself”.

 

Theon rolled his eyes and left the hall. The feast was in full swing but there was a sombre feeling to the atmosphere due to obvious reasons. The royal family were sat on the front table, raised on a dais whilst; the Starks, Lannisters and Martells were sat on three tables closest to the dais. There were a few notable absences. Robb had overheard the Queen Grandmother tell Jon that she was not hungry and wouldn’t be attending whilst Princess Rhaenys was also missing.

 

Robb decided to pay Greywind a visit. His direwolf hadn’t been able to leave for the Kingswood so he must be hungry. He excused himself, grabbing some legs of lamb for the wolf and made his way for the Godswood. The direwolves seemed to have formed a sort of nest there. It was rarely ever used making it relatively secluded. _Well, now that the direwolves reside there, it’s completely secluded._

It was getting dark now and a lot colder. It was when he entered the Godswood that he heard a voice. A feminine voice.

 

“You’re awfully intelligent, aren’t you?”, the voice praised. It received a yap as a response. _Greywind._

Greywind seemed to be soaking up the attention as he was panting heavily which he only did when he was extremely satisfied. _Normally by food_.

 

It was when the voice spoke again that Robb realised it sounded raspy. _The lady had been crying._

“You’re also a brilliant listener. I’m probably boring you but I appreciate the indulging behaviour”, he heard the woman chuckle. Robb peered around the corner to see Greywind lick the woman’s face. _Good boy._

Robb decided to advance forward. The lady looked up and seemed startled but quickly composed herself, standing up. Robb gave a bow.

 

“Your Royal Highness”, he greeted.

 

“My Lord. I didn’t expect anyone to be here”, she returned. Her expression giving nothing away.

 

“Apologies, I merely came to give Greywind some food”, he gestured to his wolf who had spotted the lamb in his hand and was already hanging his tongue out, anticipating his meal.

 

Princess Rhaenys nodded, “Of course. I’ll get out of your way”. She began moving to leave before Robb interceded.

 

“No!”, he said a bit too quickly _and loudly judging by her startled face._ “I mean, you could help feed him if you like. He seems to hold great affection for yourself, Your Royal Highness”, he hurriedly added on the end. His face seemed to feel hot. Robb also had a sudden realisation his hands were just hanging to his sides.

The princess smiled and nodded. Robb made his way towards his wolf and gave the princess a leg. “Just throw the meat and he’ll catch it and do the rest himself”, he explained. He threw the first one to provide her with an example. Greywind ran and jumped, catching the meat in his jaws, beginning to tear the flesh with loud growling noises.

“Why aren’t you at the feast?”, Robb decided to initiate conversation to fill the silence. The only other sound, besides Greywind’s luncheon being consumed, were grasshoppers in the distant and the rustle of the wind through the leaves.

 

“I had no appetite and I was in no mood to entertain nor to indulge people”. Greywind had finished the leg and looked at them expectantly for another. Rhaenys imitated Robb and threw the leg she was holding, Greywind not missing a beat before he resumed his nourishment.

 

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt what you are feeling, Your Royal Highness, but if you wish to ever just have company, even if you simply wish to sit in silence, then I hope you can think of me”.

 

Rhaenys gave a smirk, “I don’t think that’s proper, My Lord. In fact, if someone were to catch us together now then there would be serious questions”.

 

“I didn’t mean to overstep…..”, Robb started but Rhaenys shook her head.

 

“I know, you weren’t. Living here your whole life allows you to read people very well. I can say you are a man who is highly unlikely to engage in false words. I don’t know if that makes you honourable or blindly uninformed”. Robb didn’t know what to say to that. He opted to remain silent. He glanced at the princess. However, when he looked at her he didn’t see a princess but a tired woman in mourning. Mourning her father and brother whom she had just cremated.

 

Just then, there was gust of wind which caused the princess to shiver. The Stark heir noticed the thin dress the princess was wearing and the lack of furs. He instinctively removed his own cloak and extended it to her.

 

She looked at him, “I couldn’t possibly take……”, but she never finished as Robb interrupted her.

 

“I insist”. Princess Rhaenys hesitated before slowly taking the cloak. She wrapped it around herself with her dainty fingers. Robb couldn’t help but grin. She looked slightly absurd in his cloak due to the size. Her small frame in a clothing that was so large. It reminded him of when Arya would steal his or Jon’s clothing and ran around Winterfell wearing them. He couldn’t help but release a chuckle.

 

Rhaenys turned to him and smiled, “What is it?”.

 

“It’s nothing”. Robb scratched the back of head. “I just couldn’t help but think of Arya when I saw you in my cloak. How big it looks on you. She would often steal Jon’s or my own clothing”.

 

Rhaenys let out a quiet laugh, “Yes, that sounds like Arya from what I read in the letters Jon would send”. Robb smiled at her. _She looks so free when laughing._ “Tell me more about your life in Winterfell, My Lord”.

 

“Only if you tell me about your time here, Princess”. She nodded her head in compliance. The heir to Winterfell and the princess sat near the heart tree and exchanged words about their homes. Their siblings, parents and ridiculous childish predicaments they would find themselves in.

 

Robb told her of a time when he and Jon had built a large mountain of snow above a gate. They had then proceeded to dump the snow on Fat Tom, one of his father’s household guards. Rhaenys had erupted into a fit of giggles at his story which provided Robb with satisfaction. Her laughter drew him in as well, with him also chuckling along with her.

 

Once they both composed themselves the princess spoke up; “I have a cat. I named it Balerion after the Conqueror’s dragon. She had been gifted to me when I was a child by my maternal grandmother shortly before she died. I used to run around the castle - chasing it. I remember one time I had ran after it into the kitchens and accidentally knocked over a basket which had contained flour. I was covered from head to toe. I gave the cook and kitchen servants an awful fright. Some of the guards had mistaken me for a street urchin, wondering how I entered the palace. Mother had been furious for days”, she finished breathlessly.

 

Robb gave a deep chortle; imagining a short little girl in an expensive dress and small forehead headpiece drenched in flower being mistaken for a peasant. “Father had found it amusing”, Rhaenys paused before continuing, “that moment stayed with me because it was one of the times I can recall my father truly laughing and I had caused it. He was normally always so melancholy”.

 

“You really loved him?”, it wasn’t really a question but more of a statement.

 

The princess took a while to respond, “I love my mother, truly I do, and I know a child shouldn’t say this but I always felt closer to my father. I always loved just being in his presence. He always just made you feel safe and at peace with the world, especially when he sang. Oh, how I wish you could have heard him singing, it was one of his favourite things to do”. _I struggle to picture the man who; defeated Robert Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy & conquered the Stepstones and Lys singing. _

 

The two fell into a comfortable silence as Greywind was now chasing a firefly around the Godswood.

 

They both suddenly heard voices approaching. The princess shot up. “I must go. If mother, Jon or anyone finds me here, alone, with you then it’ll be extremely problematic”. _Ouch. However, understandable. A Stark and a half Martell, that’d be one for the stories._

 

She abruptly left; Greywind making a whining sound, Robb’s cloak swishing with the motion and being the last thing he saw. Robb was about to speak the words on the tip of his tongue but promptly swallowed them. _I’ll have to ask for it back._

 

He hastily wiped the smirk off his face and plastered a clear expression. Two Stark guards rounded the corner, spotted him and walked directly towards him.

 

One of them addressed him, “There you are, Milord. Lord Benjen has returned from Summerhall”. Robb instantaneously lit up. _This is the first time I’m ever meeting my uncle._

 

He began walking out of the Godswood with Greywind trotting behind. The faint lingering smell of roses and peaches still in the air.

 

* * *

 

**The Chief Treasurer**

 

She was in her chambers, brushing her hair and preparing for bed. The funeral had drained her and she had decided to forgo the feast. Ashara had mourned along with everyone else but she had more reason too. _Aegon._

 

The Lady of Starfall had essentially raised the royal children, _well Elia’s and Lyanna’s_. She had watched them grow up and taken care of them. Initially, just supervising Rhaenys and Aegon as chief lady-in-waiting to Queen Elia but then she had been named as the governess of the royal children. Then Jaehaerys and Alyssa had arrived at court, without a mother.

 

Queen Elia had assured King Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella that she would care for the twins as her own, not blaming them for the actions of their parents. _No-one would blame her if she shunned them._ However, it was Ashara who had suggested she be the one to act as a wet-nurse to the royal twins once she had returned to the Red Keep after the conclusion of the War of the Usurper, having given birth to Lyra not long ago.

 

Ashara had become the governess to all four children as well as the new-born Princess Daenerys. As time went on, the decision was made to send Jaehaerys to the North to be fostered. She had been upset with this decision but understood the value and importance it held.

 

_Now that same shy quiet boy has returned a changed man and will wear the heavy burden of his ancestors’ crown._

 

Not too long ago, she had been promoted to Chief Treasurer of the Red Keep; she now held the most senior position in the Red Keep, excluding the small council, and was the most senior individual after the royal family within the royal household. Ashara had thrown herself into her role _and I’ve done a fairly good job, even if I do say so myself._

 

A knock at her door surprised her. _Who in the seven hells visits at this time?_ She put her brush down and went to the door, wrenching it open and planning on yelling at whomever decided to disturb her. She stopped when she saw the visitor, falling into a deep curtsy.

 

“My King”, she welcomed.

 

King Jaehaerys eyed her room, seeing her unmade bed which she had prepared, ready to sleep. “My apologies, I didn’t realise you were asleep, I’ll come back tomorrow”.

 

“No, don’t be silly. I was awake. Please, come in”. She moved out of the way to allow him entrance. Once he entered, he hugged her which she returned. _He’s taller than me now, a great contrast to the last hug we shared._

 

Once they were both sat on the balcony, the King spoke, “I hadn’t seen you properly since I returned and wished to amend that. You were not at the feast so here I am”. She poured him a glass of wine and did the same for herself.

 

Sitting down, she replied “I’m glad you did. I thought you had forgotten all about poor old me”, she teased.

 

He smiled, “I thought I could see some grey hairs”. Ashara gasped and lightly smacked him on the arm before realising her mistake. _He’s not a little boy anymore but the King._

“I’m sorry, I forget myself”.

 

“Don’t. Don’t apologise to me. You don’t understand how much I appreciate someone speaking and behaving towards me like I’m just a person and not their sovereign”. Jon took a deep breath. “It reminds me of an easier time. When I was just Jon and you were just Ashawa”, he ended in jest. _Ashawa, what he used to call me when he was a child and incapable of pronouncing Ashara._ She let out a laugh.

 

“I hear you’ve been promoted. That you are now running the finances of the Red Keep and overseeing the management of it”.

 

She inclined her head. “Yes, you hear the truth. Her Grace, The Queen Grandmother thought I’d be suitable for the position due to my experience as the royal governess”. _And she wanted someone she could trust with the coin of the Red Keep; to be her eyes and ears as well as loyal to her._

“Well, I’m happy. I think she made the perfect choice”. He took a sip of his drink. “It feels strange. Being here, in King’s Landing, without father”, the King stated after a moment.

 

“Look at it in a positive light, at least he is finally reunited with your mother”, Ashara tried to sound optimistic.

 

Jon seemed to be fighting internally about something. “What is it?”, she asked. Whatever he’d been struggling with he seemed to have made up his mind.

 

“I wanted to ask you something. About father and mother”. She nodded her head for him to continue. He was biting his lip. _Something he always did from when he was younger whenever he was nervous._ She waited patiently for him to ask the question. “Did they really love each other?”. _Ah, he’s worried about the answer._

Ashara closed her eyes and sighed. “Your father was a……complicated man”, _Understatement._ “He was born in tragedy which always seemed to follow him. You know that Arthur was great friends with him but I was also in his inner-circle. Which is why I’m aware he was, forgive me for being so blunt, obsessed with a prophecy”.

 

Jon’s eyebrows drew into confusion, “Prophecy?”.

 

“Yes, this does have to do with your mother; bear with me, but a prophecy had been told to your great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys II, that a prince who was promised would be born from the line of your grandfather and grandmother which is why they were both forced to wed one another”.

 

Jon was now leaning forward on his chair, fully alert. “Who? Who told this prophecy?”.

 

“A woods witch that came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. I don’t understand why your great-grandfather believed her words but alas here we are. Anyhow, the prophecy was that the prince who was promised, a saviour of some sort, would be born and would help defeat the darkness, whatever that means. It’s no surprise the prophecy is vague as prophecies always are. The teller intentionally does this so people can form their own conclusions. Makes them drearier”. Ashara and Jon both took a sip of their drink. “Your father initially believed he was this promised prince but later seemed to decide otherwise. He used to say that the promised prince had a song of ice and fire”. Jon opened his mouth to speak but Ashara knew what he was going to ask. She raised her hand, “Don’t bother asking me what he meant, he never did explain but I suspect that is why he pursued your mother”.

 

“You’re saying my father courted my mother for a prophecy? That he threw the realm into a war over a prophecy?!”, the King asked, clearly offended. _On behalf of his mother or himself, I don’t know._

“I think that’s what the initial intention was but I firmly believe he was in love with Lyanna by the end. I believe she was the ice to his fire. Your father wanted children with her, one to be specific but the gods must have looked kindly on your mother for she was blessed with two”.

 

“You think father wanted a child by my mother for the sole purpose of this ‘darkness’?”, he was beginning to get angry.

 

She put her cup down and took a deep breath, “Do you know what I think? I think your father heard some prophecy and decided to take heed of it. He had impure reasons at the start but he truly loved your mother in the end and…..”, she was cut off by Jaehaerys.

 

“This doesn’t sound anything like my father! This sounds like a selfish man!”.

 

“Watch your tongue, he’s still your father and loved you dearly!’, she raised her voice. She inhaled and exhaled, softening her tone. “As I was saying, he may have started with the wrong reasons and yes, it was wrong to throw the realm into a war, but he truly loved your mother by the end because I saw it myself, Lyanna’s death devastated him. He had locked himself in his chambers for a week, all but refusing to see anyone when he heard of Lyanna’s death. Only when you and your sister arrived did he begin healing”.

 

The King seemed to have calmed down. “Rhaegar even fought to have your mother buried here but your uncle was adamant she would be buried in the North and your father couldn’t refuse, knowing she loved Winterfell. Listen to me”. Jon looked up. “Your father; held great respect for Elia and he did his duty with Cersei but it was your mother he loved and your mother whose death haunted him”. She took his hand into her own. “I told you all this because you have a right to know, they were your parents and you should be in possession of all the facts. As for this threat, if this prophecy has any merit; which I want it explicitly known that I do not trust, then I believe it means you, a child of ice and fire, will be a wonderful King and will bring great prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms. You have all the qualities to be a great ruler”.

 

Jon swallowed and nodded. “Thank you”. She waved her hand in dismissal. He seemed to force a smirk. _Please don’t say this ridiculous prophecy will weigh on his soul too. Please gods, ensure that I did not make a mistake in revealing this to him. He would have found out from someone else otherwise._ “I think I can see some wrinkles too”, she looked up and it took her a few seconds to realise what he had said.

 

She scoffed, “Okay, I think that we have talked for long enough because you seem to forget how to address a lady”.

 

The King looked left and right and then back at her with a look of confusion, “I see no ladies”. She smacked him on the arm again.

 

“Is that any way for a King to speak to a subject of his? Time for bed now”, she laughed. Jon gave one last smile. _So, like Lyra’s smile and…….. his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found the fact that Rhaenys was hiding under Rhaegar's bed extremely sad. I think this is evidence of her feeling closer to her father than her mother. The fact that during a dangerous time when everyone's lives were at risk, she ran to her father's room for comfort. Sadly, he wasn't there. 
> 
> The coronation is impending. Stay tuned :)
> 
> Please leave a comment as it's really motivational!
> 
> Subscribe and kudos!
> 
> Also, to the people who bookmark this story, I see you and greatly appreciate it :)


	8. The Hand of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya bites off more than she can chew. Pycelle's time is up whilst Jon cements his rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I took forever to update. My apologies but I study abroad and I had left my laptop with my notes in the country I study in. I have it back now hence the update. Also, you can blame Orange is the New Black too. To make up for the fact that I took a long time, this is the longest chapter so far (13,000 words). A chapter this long won't be a regular occurrence. 
> 
> There have been grammar changes in that I have changed to using the American way of putting full stops and commas inside speech marks. Even though I was taught the British way, Microsoft Word refuses to acknowledge the British way and it's irritating seeing a bunch of blue lines under sections when I'm writing. I will change the past chapters at a later date.

**The Wolf Girl**

_The cat. This damn cat won’t sit still._ Arya Stark had been chasing the feline, for what felt like moons now. Every time she came remotely close to snatching the feral thing it would hiss and scratch her before scuttling off again.

 

The only reason she wanted to hold the thing was because her brother Bran had dared express that she was incapable of capturing the cat. Now she was determined to prove him wrong and wipe that smug look off his face that had appeared after he had slighted her physical prowess.

 

She had received a few snide remarks from some of the lords and ladies she passed in the hallways. _Though that was probably from me knocking into some of them._ Nevertheless, Arya didn’t care what they thought of her. _Jon is the King and I am his cousin – favourite cousin at that._

 

Arya cheered up at the thought of if Nymeria had been with her. _The cat wouldn’t last a heartbeat._ Alas, Nymeria spent more time outside of the castle with her brothers and sisters than inside where she felt trapped.

One of the positive aspects of following the cat around was that it provided her with the opportunity to familiarise herself with the royal palace. She gained the chance to explore the royal residence; the various wings, hallways and disused chambers. Arya had explored parts of Maegor’s Holdfast, the first time she had entered the castle within a castle.

 

She had managed to gain entry because she had been with her cousin – Princess Alyssa. It was not her fault that after leaving her cousin’s chamber she had spotted the cat; sitting there, taunting her. She had passed the King’s private chamber which Jon had recently moved into as well as the Queen Grandmother’s chamber, even Arya hadn’t dared go near the latter’s room. She had tried to enter a chamber that had been sealed off but was prevented from doing so by a Kingsguard. _Ser Oswell Whent._

 

“I wouldn’t lurk around here, little lady.” The knight had leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, “This chamber is said to be accursed. Terrible things took place here,” he finished with a completely serious look upon his face.

 

“I’m not scared,” Arya puffed out her chest.

 

Ser Oswell simply raised a patronising brow at her attempts at being brave. _How dare he!_ “Well, you’re stupid then,” he stated in a bored voice.

 

Arya felt as if she had been slapped in the face. _He called me stupid?! He used my own word against me. _Quickly wiping the affronted look off her face she spoke again, “You seem to think you know everything, what happened here then?”

 

“Ever heard of the Brightflame Prince?” The rude man didn’t even wait for an answer before continuing. “Of course, you haven’t. Little lady like you probably spends her time being an irritant rather than in the library.” _If he wasn’t wearing his stupid armour, I would kick him in the shins._ “Prince Aerion Brightflame was the son of King Maekar Targaryen. He became obsessed with dragons to the point where he one day locked himself in his room with a bottle of wildfire. He drank the wildfire thinking it would turn him into a dragon.”

 

The Kingsguard glanced at the chamber doors and then at her. “All that happened, little lady, was that the prince died, all the while his insides burning away. They say you could hear his screams all the way from the bottom of Aegon’s High Hill. The chamber has been sealed since.” Oswell Whent smiled evilly, “some servants even pass these doors and swear they can hear a scream as well as the smell of fire.”

 

Arya’s mouth was hanging open now. Ser Whent released a whistle. “Shame……..well, be sure not to think about this when you sleep tonight. Be sure to not think about the ghosts that haunt this chamber.” He smiled and started walking away, “Oh, and close your mouth, it isn’t very ladylike standing in the middle of the hallway trying to catch flies with your large mouth.” With that, the Kingsguard disappeared from view. Arya had stood there for a moment, appraising the doors before bolting away.

 

That had been this morning and now here she was with the cat again after having spotted it once more. However, this time the cat had ran into a chamber. She was about to also run in when a voice stopped her.

 

“Why are you chasing my cat?” It was the Princess Rhaenys approaching with one of her ladies, the Frey one. Arya tried to give a curtsy but stumbled. Her cheeks went red but she was secretly grateful when neither lady mentioned it.

 

“I was trying to show Bran that I could catch the cat. This your cat?” Arya blurted out.

 

“Yes, his name is Balerion.” Princess Rhaenys and Lady Roslin entered the former’s chamber with Arya being invited in too. The cat was resting on the settee, staring at her. The princess approached the cat and stroked it, the feline closing its eyes and purring at the affection.

 

Arya examined the princesses’ room, having never seen it before. It was roughly the same size as Alyssa’s room but the furnishings contrasted.

 

Whereas Princess Alyssa’s room favoured her female ancestors such as Queen Visenya and Queen Daena, Princess Rhaenys had tapestries of; Queen Alysanne, to Arya’s surprise – Princess Rhaenyra and one of Arya’s heroes and from Rhaenys’ mother’s family, Queen Nymeria.

 

The colour scheme of the room was mainly dominated by red and black - the drapes, bedding and settee. However, there were elements of Princess Rhaenys’ Martell heritage reflected within the room. The slightly orange rugs and some small tapestries, one depicting the union of House Martell into the Seven Kingdoms.

 

Whilst Arya was looking around, she did a double take when she spotted something familiar.

 

“That’s Robb’s,” she pointed at a cloak that had the Stark sigil threaded upon it. _I know because I used to stea…borrow the cloak from him._

The princess didn’t even look up from whatever she was writing behind her desk whilst Lady Roslin turned to look at what Arya was referring to.

 

The princess responded without raising her sight away from her writing, “Yes, he gave it to me. I wanted to see how Northerners created their embroidery so I could make something for my brother. Don’t tell him, it’s a surprise.” Roslin Frey turned to the princess, who was still looking down, and raised an eyebrow. _Perhaps she didn’t know about the surprise?_ Arya nodded to the princess. “Arya, I have some duties to attend to so if you don’t mind,” Rhaenys stated politely. The wolf girl nodded and took her leave. _I know when someone is trying to get rid of me._

 

Arya was making her way to the Great Hall. She was to meet Sansa there where they would make their way to the drawing room to have supper with her newly arrived Uncle Benjen. Arya had never been to the drawing room and was unaware of its location. Sansa was busy attending to her duties as lady-in-waiting to Princess Daenerys so told Arya to meet her in the Great Hall.

 

Arya didn’t mind agreeing as this allowed her the opportunity to explore the throne room. She had been there only once before, when they had arrived in King’s Landing. _I can finally analyse the dragon skulls._

She stopped in front of the large oak doors, where there were two Targaryen guards on duty.

 

“May I enter?” She asked one of the guards. She merely received a nod in reply. They opened the doors for her and she entered the throne room.

 

She had arrived a little earlier, knowing Sansa would not be here to whine about how frightening the dragon skulls looked.

 

One of the reasons for Arya’s fascination with the throne room was the fact that its construction had been overseen by one of her ultimate heroines – Queen Visenya Targaryen.

 

The wolf girl of Winterfell knew everything there was to know about Visenya Targaryen, from her fighting prowess to her sharp mind. The building of the throne room had been fully completed during Visenya’s tenure as the first Queen Mother in history.

 

She looked around in awe, not having taken in the room the first time. The floor was sparkling marble that had been polished regularly, the windows were all stained glass with the sigil of House Targaryen engraved upon them. There were various suits of armour which decorated the outskirts of the place. Tapestries of fundamental moments in Targaryen history hung on the walls; The Field of Fire, Queen Alysanne visiting the wall, King Daeron II’s marriage amongst others. There were pillars, with elaborate designs embossed upon them, on both sides of the room that were leading up to the front of the great hall where the Iron Throne sat in a giant rounded alcove upon a raised dais with two dragon heads carved on either side upon the wall. _Visenya had tried to leave House Targaryen’s mark anywhere possible. I’d do the same for House Stark._

She was just about to make her way to the dragon skulls to examine them when the doors opened once again and in entered her sister Sansa.

 

“Arya, let’s go or we will be late,” Sansa stated bossily.

 

“But I didn’t even get to see the dragon skulls,” she whined. _Trust Sansa to arrive at the most inopportune moment._

“Why would you want to see them anyway? They are awfully frightening.” Arya simply stared at her sister after her rhetorical question. _Is she jesting?_

Sansa seemed to realise how ridiculous her words were for she amended herself. “All right, you can see them later. We are here for a long time so you will have lots of opportunities. Now come on, it’s bad manners to be late.” Sansa grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the throne room.

 

* * *

 

“So, have you heard from your father and mother recently? When are they arriving to the capital?” Uncle Benjen asked no one in particular.

 

Herself, Sansa and her brothers Robb and Bran were sat in the drawing room with their uncle to have a family meal and it was a chance to get to know their newly returned family member better. Jon was busy and said he would arrive later whilst Alyssa was visiting Queen Rhaella’s food kitchen in the city with Princess Rhaenys. They had cited it was more important for Uncle Benjen to spend time with the Stark children as he had never seen them before.

 

“Aye, they should have left Winterfell by now and ought to be making their way here,” Robb said whilst taking a swig of his wine. Arya and Bran had wanted some to but were quickly dismissed by Robb and Sansa. _The two together are worse than ten Septa Mordane’s._

“What happened to a Stark always being in Winterfell?” Uncle Benjen enquired.

 

“Rickon is staying behind so essentially Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrick will be ruling Winterfell. Mother was conflicted about leaving but this would be her only chance in a long while to see grandfather, Uncle Edmure and Aunt Lysa,” Robb finished.

 

“Shame, I would have liked to have seen Rickon but alas maybe another time.”

 

Arya had been bottling up on what she truly wanted to ask but no-more. “What was Summerhall like? Is it all a burnt ruin like they say? Is it haunted like its rumoured to be?” Arya exclaimed loudly.

 

“Arya! Don’t be so rude!” Sansa reprimanded.

 

“I wasn’t being rude, stupid, I was just asking questions,” Arya replied angrily.

 

“Throwing out questions **is** rude,” her sister returned. “And so is calling people stupid,” she seemed to add on as an afterthought.

 

Arya was going to reply but was prevented from doing so by Robb. “Both of you stop it! You are behaving embarrassingly,” Robb muttered tiredly, running a hand in his hair.

 

They were all then silenced by Uncle Benjen’s laughter. The Stark children all looked quizzically at him and each other, raising their eyebrows in confusion. Their uncle continued for what felt like a good few minutes before stopping and wiping the tears from his eyes.

 

“My apologies. You all just remind me of familiar scenarios that occurred when I was a child. All four of you are reminiscent of me and my siblings.”

 

Robb smiled before asking, “how do you mean?”

 

“Well, you’re like your Uncle Brandon in that you are there trying to diffuse the situation and look tired doing it,” Uncle Benjen directed at Robb. The former faced Sansa and continued, “You’re like your father, encouraging everyone to behave appropriately.” Arya noticed that Sansa slightly puffed her chest out at the comparison.

 

Uncle Benjen addressed her next, “You are like your Aunt Lyanna. She was also very blunt, never thought twice before stating what was on her mind.” Arya beamed at the comment which she embraced as praise. She had after all grown up admiring her late aunt. _Okay, I understand why Sansa puffed her chest out._

“What about me?!” Bran questioned. Uncle Benjen grinned at his nephew. “You. You remind me of myself. Often when there was an argument, I was not involved. Instead choosing to remain silent and refrain from getting a reprimand from Ned for siding with Lyanna or hearing Lyanna’s abuse when I sided with Ned.” Bran smiled and nodded at their uncle’s words, seeming to agree with them. _Well, there may be some truth in that. He **is** stupid when he agrees with Sansa. _

 

The conversation came to a halt when a herald announced the King and her cousin entered. They all stood from their seats and greeted him.

 

Once they had retaken their places Uncle Benjen directed his words at Jon, “So, this is a big change from how I envisioned our reunion. I had pictured you returning south as Prince of Summerhall but instead you’re King. To think, I’ve been spending my days fixing up the ruined castle for you,” Uncle Benjen quipped.

 

They all chuckled before Benjen continued, “In all seriousness, would you like me to finish the construction of Summerhall?”

 

Jon didn’t even need to think before responding, “Aye, it’s nearly finished, I believe?” Uncle Benjen nodded before her cousin resumed, “It was also one of my father’s last orders and I wish for it to be fulfilled. I would like to see it before you finish it,” to which Benjen nodded again.

 

“Oh, and to answer your question Arya, Summerhall was a charred ruin but now the majority of it is rebuilt to its former glory, if I do say so myself. As for ghosts, I never saw anything myself. However, there is an eerie atmosphere there. A dark feeling of foreboding. I and some of the men sometimes felt as if we were being watched,” Uncle Benjen finished grimly.

 

Sansa looked like someone had thrown cold water on her face and Bran’s eyes were as wide as saucers. However, Arya was enthralled, leaning closer to her uncle to listen all the better. She noticed that her older brother and cousin were pretending to be unaffected but hadn’t removed their eyes from their uncle since he began retelling about his time at the ruined Targaryen palace.

 

Unfortunately, before the story could continue, the doors slammed open and Ser Evin ran in, breathing heavily.

 

“Your Grace!” he all but bellowed.

 

Everyone stood up. “Ser Evin, what is the meaning of this?” Jon demanded as he walked towards his captain of the household guard.

 

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but something terrible has happened. You must come to the dungeons at once.”

 

Jon didn’t even blink before striding out of the room with Ser Evin running behind. Uncle Benjen decided to also follow them and left.

 

Robb quickly turned around and brusquely spoke to Sansa, “take your brother and sister to your chamber and remain there with Septa Mordane until I return. The Stark guards outside will escort you back to your room.”

 

“I want to come,” Arya asked. She knew it was futile but it was worth a shot.

 

“No,” Robb merely stated, without even glancing at her, before also rushing out. _Damn._

 

“Come,” Sansa ordered, making her way out of the room. Arya and Bran copied her.

 

The Wolf Girl knew she would be in a great deal of trouble for what she was about to do next but, alas, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. _Plus, I need to know what is happening. Maybe I could help? After all, Uncle Benjen did liken me to Aunt Lyanna and I know this is something she would do too._ After convincing herself that this was a suitable excuse, Arya mentally went through her plan.

 

Whilst they were making a turn to go into the Maidenvault, Arya broke away from the group and ran down the other hallway. _Having explored the palace will really come in handy now. I know the place better than the Stark guards._

 

Ignoring the shrill screeching of “ARYA” from her sister, the wolf girl sprinted down the corridor. She could hear the footsteps of the guards chasing her but remained steadfast in her mission. _If I can just get to the end of the corridor and make a sharp right then I can hide behind the one of the giant suits of armour until I lose the guards._

“Lady Arya, please stop running! We are only doing as ordered by Lord Robb,” one of the guards pleaded. Arya felt a sliver of guilt but squished it, vowing to ensure that she would vouch for them when she met her inevitable fate with her brother.

 

Coming to the end of the hallway, she pivoted right and ran towards the lined suits of armour which had belonged to previous Targaryens. Arya hid behind the shield of one and could no longer do much but simply pray that they did not think to search behind the armour and believe that she ran down the hallway. She could then proceed left towards the dungeons.

 

Arya stiffened when she noticed her nemesis strutting towards her. _Look at it; stupid thing, I ought to kick you._

Balerion the cat had now stopped a few feet away but was watching her and hissing. Arya began waving her hand in an attempt to shoo the animal away but it had clearly chosen this moment to exact its revenge against her for chasing it earlier.

 

To make matters worse, the Stark guards chose that moment to arrive. They both looked around. “Where did she go? How can a **girl** be that quick-footed?” That’s when the guards noticed the princess’s pet.

 

“Why is the cat spitting at the suit of armour?” Arya instinctively held her breath in. The two men were slowly walking in her direction. _Shit, I’m going to be in so much trouble and it wasn’t even worth it. Caught before the payoff._

“You two!” The two men stopped at the new voice and inclined their heads slightly in respect. The new individual made her way towards the guards. “What are you doing here? The Stark chambers are in the Maidenvault. Explain yourselves.” Arya recognised the woman, having seen her only once before in the presence of the Queen Grandmother. _Lady Ashara Dayne._

“Milady, we were looking for Lady Arya. She ran away whilst we were returning to the Maidenvault.” One of the guards explained, whom Arya knew to be named Hamon.

 

“How can you be so careless as to lose your charge?!” Lady Ashara yelled. Seeing her reminded Arya of an incident that had occurred in Winterfell a long time ago.

 

They had been in the training yard and Ser Rodrick had been called away for business. That was when Theon Greyjoy had begun talking about some southern Dornish woman he had bedded. The boys had been unware that Arya was there as this talk surely would not have happened had they known of her presence.

 

Theon had begun to go into detail about his increased desire for women of the south, particularly Dornish women and how they made great lovers. Both Robb and Jon had seemed disinterested with the topic of conversation with her brother the only one who was even bothering to indulge the Greyjoy heir. Theon had then made the fatal mistake of speaking the words – “I hear rumours about Lady Ashara Dayne. She’s said to be one of the greatest beauties in the Seven Kingdoms and she has a bastard which bodes well. Clearly means she’s no stranger to a tumble between the sheets.”

 

That was all the Greyjoy had managed to get out before he was punched in the face so hard that he fell flat onto the floor. Jon had then jumped on Theon and started to repeatedly punch the latter; a look on his face that was foreign to Arya, especially considering she credited herself as being one of few individuals who knew Jon well. Enraged was an understatement. It was only from Robb’s and several guards’ intervention that put an end to her cousin’s assault upon Theon. Even if Arya hadn’t witnessed the event, she would still automatically blame Theon. _He’s always wrong. Jon is always right. Except when he disagrees with me._

However, the biggest surprise was not from her cousin’s behaviour but that of her father’s once he learned of the reasoning behind Jon’s assault upon the kraken. Ned Stark had done something he never did before. Shout. Normally, the Lord of Winterfell would only need to give someone a look to make them adhere to something or exchange a few quiet words. Though this time, he shouted at Theon and ordered him to his study where it was unknown what was spoken in private but once Theon had returned he had apologised to Jon and never again had he mentioned the Dornish lady.

 

From that day forth, the habitants of Winterfell dared not mention the name of Lady Ashara Dayne either let alone mock her for having a bastard.

 

“Come with me,” Lady Ashara stated whilst simultaneously rolling her eyes at the incompetency of the guards. _Thank you, old gods._ Lady Ashara stopped near the cat and stroked it in an effort to calm it down which proved fruitful. The cat quieted at the lady’s touch and began trotting away. _Demon cat._

As if Balerion heard her thoughts, he whipped his head back a final time, making Arya recoil, and gave one last hiss before disappearing from view. _This is not over cat!_

The wolf girl waited a few long beats to ensure the guards didn’t return and that the coast was clear before descending from her hiding location and advancing towards the dungeons.

 

Due to Arya’s small stature and the fact that she was quick-footed she was able to hide in small spaces and quickly hide from guards. There were moments when she passed Targaryen guards but the majority didn’t enquire due to her relation to Jon. She also found that if one looked as if they were important and were performing a duty then the guards would question you less. However, there were some occasions where she was stopped. Arya would simply state she was going to her brother and cousin to inform them of something important. Her relation to the King thankfully worked in her favour.

 

When Arya finally reached the dungeons, there was so much activity occurring that no-one took heed to why she was there. She finally spotted Jon and Robb. They were in the company of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold, as well as Lord Stannis and five other men whom Arya suspected were gaolers who worked in the dungeons. Arya stopped a hearing distance away from them, obscuring herself behind an open door of one of the cells.

 

It was Ser Gerold who was speaking, “……unsure of how the man entered the cell but he was highly trained as there are four dead gaolers. Possible collusion between some of the gaolers and the perpetrator.”

 

“Your Grace, no! I swear upon all seven gods that I had nothing to do with this,” one of the   gaolers pleaded.

 

“You may not have, but you cannot vouch for all of the others. Nevertheless, you are the Chief Gaoler and responsible for all the gaolers in the dungeons and your incompetency in your role has proven disastrous.” The man being reprimanded was about to argue further before being silenced by a raise of hand by Jon. “As for you Lord Baratheon, you are my Master of Laws, in charge of the dungeons. I shall speak to you later in private.” Stannis Baratheon was conducting his signature move – grinding his teeth.

 

“I understand, Your Grace,” he inclined his head.

 

“The perpetrator?” Jon asked brusquely.

 

“He sprinted away once it was realised what had happened. Prince Viserys had been nearby. He was in pursuit of the assailant,” Lord Stannis finished in his monotone voice.

 

“Pray the prince catches him for all your sakes. Ser Gerold; the Kings Justice, all gaolers and the turnkeys will be questioned and then removed from their positions.” This was immediately followed by protests from the gaolers but Jon nodded his head at Ser Gerold whom, along with the aid of Targaryen guards, dragged the men away. “Ser Evin, please escort Pycelle to the acolytes and inform them to do what they can. The citadel can’t have arranged for the new maester yet and therefore he will not be here for a long while. A long distance he has to travel.”

 

Ser Evin bowed and motioned for two of his men to enter the cell with him to presumably help him move Pycelle. _Is he ill?_

Whilst glaring at some of the passing guards who looked at her, evidently wondering why she was in the dungeons; Arya was internally daring them to challenge her but the guards seemingly chose otherwise. She was wondering what illness could possibly entail Jon removing all the servants of the dungeons from their positions when her answer was delivered. She gulped and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, forcing it down.

 

Ser Evin emerged holding Pycelle by the arm on one side whilst the other side was held by one of Evin’s men. The third guard was holding Pycelle’s legs.

 

The former Grand Maester, who was now unconscious, was bleeding profusely from three parts of his body. It took one glance at the thick piece of string hanging from his neck to realise what had occurred. For hanging around the maester’s neck was the man’s tongue and two hands. The little lady of Winterfell felt ill.

 

“How did they not hear the man’s screams?” Robb wondered aloud, looking at the man in horror.

 

A few servants arrived with a stretcher which Pycelle was promptly placed upon and carried away to the Rookery.

 

Arya recognised she should leave before anyone spotted her. She tried to pull herself together which proved difficult after what she had just witnessed. As discreetly as possible, she made her way out behind the cell door and began her way back to the Maidenvault. She had not even made it two steps before her journey came to an abrupt ending.

 

“Arya!” the enraged voice of her brother pierced her ears and made her flinch.

 

_Well…......shit._

 

* * *

 

**The Stormborn**

She was going to explode. Any minute now. Clinging onto to dear life, she was holding onto his back, her nails likely leaving marks. He was making powerful deep thrusts into her whilst she clung onto him. The only two noises interconnected with one another were both of their groans and moans as well as the slapping sound of his hips and cock repeatedly retaking their position between her legs, their sweaty flesh connecting together.

 

It had started when she was watching him earlier with the sword, holding it as if it was nothing, just an extension of his arm, had made a feeling rise deep from her stomach, travelling down to between her legs.

 

He was exceptionally skilled with the sword. _Well, it was one of his favourite activities even as a child and he **has** trained under the tutelage of Ser Jaime. _ Men had been charging at him and he had been picking them off like flies one at a time. He had knocked the arrogant Theon Greyjoy to the dirt and had even defeated his cousin too. Ser Brynden Tully, the Master-at-arms had been supervising the men and was thoroughly impressed.

 

She had heard the other women sighing next to her which made her feel conflicted. Conflicted because on the one hand she was happy and proud for Jon that he was doing an admirable job at proving himself to the people but on the other hand all the women were staring at him, lust evident in their eyes, breathing deeply. Margaery Tyrell even had the nerve to bite her lip.

 

The problem only got worse when Jon removed his shirt due to it being drenched in his sweat. Jon had slightly long hair like his father, though his was black, and also like his father he had tied his hair into a small bun. His violet eyes, similar to hers, sparkling amidst his victory. The King’s body was chiselled and hard with muscle. His toned arms and legs moving gracefully as he fought his opponents. She could see his trimmed beard was shining slightly from sweat. He looked like the statue of The Warrior in the Sept of Baelor. _God-like. His time spent in the North has clearly proved fruitful._ From the letters he would send from Winterfell, Ser Jaime had placed Jon under highly intense training sessions which Jon would often complain about but it seemed to have worked in his favour as evident through his skill with the sword.

Daenerys side-eyed the woman standing next to her. _This Tyrell harlot did the same thing with Aegon and now that he’s no longer an option, she’s after the next best thing._

After defeating the other men, Jon had glanced up at the bridge, where she and her ladies were watching. _She knew that look._

She had promptly dismissed her ladies and returned to her chamber. She quickly applied some fragrance and adjusted her dress, making it tighter. She turned around when she heard the wall panel close.

 

“You have no idea what that dress is doing to me,” Jon stated in his deep gruff northern accent as he made his way to her chamber door and barred it. His voice only made her more wet. An ache that would not subside until she absorbed the remedy that was Jon. _I do, that’s why I picked it intentionally._ The princess was aware of the affect she had when she wore tight dresses upon Jon. Especially dresses that accentuated her behind. _Some men are affected by breasts and some by arse, Jon fits into the latter category._ Her pink dress had a plunging neckline which displayed the top of her breasts which Jon was now staring at. _Or maybe he’s both?_ She removed her diadem and placed it on her dresser.

 

Jon was standing there, his tunic replaced on his torso since the sparring match. The clothing tight on his body allowing her to see the outline of his muscular form. He lunged at her, attacking her lips with his. Daenerys released a high-pitched moan whilst Jon groaned deeply. One of the King’s hands immediately going to one of her cheeks and the other to her back, slowly travelling down to her arse. Daenerys’ hands landed on his chest. He plunged his tongue into her mouth making her breathe heavily through her nose. _Maybe it’s true what they say – fighting makes a man’s blood go up._

 

The King began ripping her dress without a care. _I’d normally stop him but the ache is too strong. I can mend it later._

He gave one hard rip and her dress fell to the floor, shortly followed by her corset, leaving her bare. His clothing quickly followed leaving his masculine god-like form on display. Daenerys’ hands roamed his body, feeling his pectorals. _My warrior._

Jon’s hands went under her thighs, lifting and carrying her to the wall, pushing her back against it. She wrapped her legs around his waist as one of his hands crawled between her legs.

 

His gruff voice broke the silence, “Damn, you’re so wet for me.” She was going to reply but he cut her off with his lips upon hers once more. She moaned into his mouth as her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

 

He was pumping his fingers slowly inside of her whilst she was panting. Jon was watching her face with apt attention, kissing her simultaneously. She was just thinking she was about to finish when a sob released itself from her throat.

 

Jon removed his fingers and placed his other hand under her arse to keep her in position against the wall. The fingers that had just been inside her were moved to her lips. She automatically opened her mouth and Jon inserted one finger inside. She closed her lips around his finger and began to suck, tasting herself on him.

 

Suddenly, without any warning, the King filled her below once again, this time with his cock, going as deep as possible. He let out a deep grunt whilst she returned with a high-pitched one. He paused to allow her to adjust before pulling out and pushing back in with full force, his pace increasing with every thrust.

 

By the twelfth plunge of his cock inside of her, he had set a brutal pace, the room filled with their moans and the slapping of their sweaty bodies. She was still sucking on his finger, breathing heavily from her nose, the smell of his sweat from the training yard on his body filling her nose.

 

His persistent pounding and rutting inside her was making a familiar feeling rise again within her. She was going to erupt again and judging from his heavy breathing and groaning, he was too.

 

He removed his finger to place that hand under her arse too so he could set a consistent pace.

 

“I’m…..I’m almost there,” she breathed out.

 

“Me too,” he stated huskily. Her nails were digging into his back but he seemed unaffected by this. The volume of her moans increased and Jon seemed to notice this for he smirked and went balls deep inside her. However, he seemed to have a realisation for he silenced her with his lips upon hers.

 

“As much….. as much as I love hearing you, we can’t risk it.” She barely managed to nod in acknowledgment to his words before he hungrily attacked her lips again. She felt her imminent release.

 

_I know what will push him over the edge_. “My King. My…my Emperor, claim me,” she began sighing in his ear as she climaxed. The trick seemed to work for Jon lunged at her lips, quietening her sobs of pleasure, as Daenerys started moaning into his mouth. She culminated for the second time. _Jon may be different from other young men but he is still that – a young man. A young man who is susceptible to having his ego stroked. Gods know that he does need the confidence boost. However, not overconfidence. I will ensure he becomes confident but simultaneously remains humble._

 

One, two, three more thrusts before he also reached his end, pumping his release and seed deep inside of her with a deep moan, his eyes closed.

 

Daenerys waited patiently for Jon to open his eyes so she could look upon them. The features that were so similar to her own. Two amethysts that they shared. Not even a second later, the man who owned her heart lifted his eyelids and met her gaze. Both the King and Princess were catching their breaths, just looking at each other without saying a word. Words were unnecessary when one knew what the other was saying. Words couldn’t do justice to explain their feelings.

 

She felt a sense of guilt rise within her. _In the moment, I wanted Jon to finish inside me and did not stop him from doing so but now I will need to take measures to prevent anything from happening and it will be the last time I use these measures. Jon will have to do his part too to prevent any consequences._ The princess chose to keep this to herself until the next time.

 

Jon gently placed her back on the floor as he moved towards the pile of clothes that belonged to him which had been hastily discarded earlier. She followed his example and began to redress. The silence was interrupted with Jon’s laugh. “I think the sparring session and now holding you up against the wall whilst fucking is enough training for today,” he remarked as he pulled on his breeches. She giggled at his comment as she moved towards him where he automatically began tying her dress for her. Once he finished, he sealed it with a kiss to her neck which brought a smile to her.

However, Daenerys turned around to face him only for the upbeat atmosphere to be short-lived as Jaehaerys’ smile was slowly replaced with a frown. “I have a few essential tasks to perform today.”

 

Daenerys didn’t need to ask what one of those required tasks was as she was already aware. _The entire city was aware. Pycelle’s execution._

It had been two days since Pycelle was mutilated. Two days since the people responsible managed to escape before being restrained. _Escaped to the afterlife._

After the incident, there was talk amongst some of the people that the royal family had been the ones guilty of the attack in retribution for the crimes Pycelle had committed against their family. _It doesn’t seem to enter their minds that it’s counterproductive for us that Pycelle has lost all form of communicating before revealing details of his reasoning behind the atrocities he conducted._

Daenerys held no respect for the maester but he had been their prisoner and in their care when attacked which sheds a negative light upon the royal family. _All this talk about our ‘ruthlessness’ gives us a bad image._

Never mind the fact that Viserys’ attempt to arrest the assailant was overlooked by some; a member of the royal family, almost killed trying to capture the perpetrator.

 

Her brother had chased the perpetrator into the city with several guards in tow but he was split up from the Targaryen men due to their suits of armour slowing them down. Viserys had chased the assailant down alone and had almost captured the individual until they had entered a backstreet. The prince had been surrounded by comrades of the traitor – an ambush.

 

Prince Viserys had stood his ground and fought many of them off but, unfortunately, he had been dealt some blows in the process. _Thank the gods he had been trained by the likes of the Sword of the Morning and the Bold for, if not for this fact, I would be burying another brother._

Consequently because of Viserys’ training, it allowed him to persevere with him prevailing against the men; with only one remaining – the assailant who had attacked Pycelle. Evidently, he had been the strongest which was likely why he had been selected to carry out the attack.

 

The Targaryen guards had arrived by then but were commanded to keep their distance by her brother. According to the story told by the guards, the prince had fought the now lone traitor with the two going back and forth.

 

Eventually, her brother had achieved the upper hand and was successful in disarming his opponent. His sword upon the floor, the man had been reduced to his knees. Viserys had announced his arrest to the man but the latter had other intentions for he pulled a small blade from his boot and proceeded to slit his own throat. _The traitor would rather die than be taken into custody and suffer the consequences._

 

Despite the fact that Viserys had been unable to capture the traitor alive, Jon had been grateful to his uncle for his efforts in attempting to restrain the perpetrator. _Rather dead than escaped._

Due to the fact that Pycelle was now unable to communicate, Jon had decreed that he be executed to put him out of his suffering and face the repercussions of his crimes. _Whomever wanted to silence the old maester has been successful but they will be found in time._

The princess’ curiosity got the best of her, “What are the other tasks that you need to carry out? Besides Pycelle’s execution.”

 

He was redressed now, “You’ll find out very soon, my delicate star.”

 

_‘Delicate star.’_ Daenerys couldn’t help but sigh at the term of endearment Jon had labelled her. When they were children, the two had been in the godswood with Jon’s departure for Winterfell impending. The pair had been laying on the ground, resting after playing. Jon had abruptly turned to her and informed her that her hair held a great resemblance to the colour of the stars in the sky. He had been so proud of his comparison and henceforth from that day, he had begun addressing her as his ‘star.’

 

It was when he had been visiting King’s Landing once that the ‘delicate’ part fitted in. The couple along with her nephew and niece, Aegon and Rhaenys, had been in the Great Hall looking at the new tapestries Rhaegar had installed. One had been of Queen Naerys. Though her brother-husband had been reviled, the same did not apply to her as she was a symbol of duty. It was then that Jon had highlighted the fact that the late Targaryen Queen held a likeness to Daenerys. “They both have a ‘delicate’ beauty” was his point. Thus, was born the endearment ‘delicate star.’ It wasn’t until Riverrun, where their relationship truly started, that Jon began calling her that, in private of course.

 

“I should get going before someone arrives. I also need to bathe after my….’exertions’ on the training ground and between your legs.” The last part made her go red and blush.

 

She lightly hit his arm, “don’t be so vulgar,” she reprimanded half-heartedly.

 

He chuckled and sealed their lips together in parting before making his exit through the secret tunnel.

 

Once Jon left, Daenerys unlocked the door and summoned her handmaidens to help her bathe. The maids automatically filled the tub with hot water, knowing she preferred to wash herself in steaming liquid. In the tub which was lightly scented with jasmine flowers freshly picked from the royal gardens, the princess contemplated another revelation that only some members of the royal family and the Master of Laws were aware of that had been discovered after the questioning of the Kings Justice.

 

Jon had given explicit orders to the Kings Justice to constantly question Pycelle and if the maester resisted, to then progressively use force to make him talk. The jailers were also instructed to keep Pycelle under intense guard at all times. However, when investigating the servants of the dungeons, Jon discovered that his decisions had been undermined by the very person who was supposed to support him all the way. His own Hand – Jon Connington.

 

The King had demanded Lord Connington answer for his actions. The Hand had seemed to take it upon himself to lift the King’s orders, directly undermining him. The Hand of the King had used his authority to countermand Jaehaerys’ order to interrogate Pycelle by any means necessary, with Connington ordering the guards to question Pycelle as if he was a moderate level criminal who had not been found guilty of high treason. Furthermore, as if that was not enough insult, Connington had rearranged the gaolers, lessening the amount on duty outside Pycelle’s cell. Jaehaerys had told her all this in frustration. Connington had cited that the number of gaolers outside Pycelle’s cell was futile and a waste, stating they could be used elsewhere to guard other prisoners.

 

Daenerys had wondered as to why the Hand would do this but then she had been notified by the King that Connington had voted ‘not guilty’ during Pycelle’s trial for his crime of high treason which led Jaehaerys to believe that Connington’s not guilty verdict may have influenced his decisions to undermine the King. That the methods sanctioned by the King to question Pycelle were too harsh in the Hand’s eyes. It also explained why the gaolers never managed to derive any useful information from Pycelle, taking into account the amount of days he was held in captivity - they had not used any extreme methods to gain that information. Moreover, not only was the King undermined but so was the Master of Laws, Stannis Baratheon, who’s back Connington had acted behind too.

 

The King also held the suspicion that his Hand believed he was too young and unprepared to be making all these decisions. Jaehaerys **had** just missed the age of regency by one year. He believed this also had a role in the Hand’s actions. He was aware that Lord Connington did not ever mean for these repercussions to unfold but, unfortunately for everyone, the damage was done.

 

The princess rose from the tub and allowed her maids to begin drying her. She had taken longer than initially intended but dismissed the worry as everyone else would need to prepare for the event occurring today. Her ladies-in-waiting were summoned to help her dress for the day’s events.

 

Daenerys’ ladies consisted of; her chief lady-in-waiting - Ysilla Royce, Margaery Tyrell, Talla Tarly and the newest addition, Sansa Stark. The princess can still recall when she named Ysilla as her chief lady-in-waiting, an act that infuriated Margaery. The Tyrell believed she should have been awarded the position, likely considering the fact that she hails from a great house unlike Ysilla. Though Daenerys initially simply did it because Ysilla was the better and more attentive lady, now that Margaery was lusting after Jon, Daenerys was all the prouder of her choice.

 

Looking at Margaery and thinking of Jon brought a triumphant smile to Daenerys’ face. _Margaery can dream all she wants of Jon but it was myself he ravished not long ago right against that wall._

 

The ladies all curtsied to her in greeting as she instructed them on what she desired to wear. Opting for a modest light blue dress with a simple topaz necklace adorned with a jewelled chained headband to compensate as a tiara. _I don’t want a repeat of the lecture mother once gave me for not wearing something on my head. “A princess must always wear a tiara, diadem or even the traditional jewelled headbands to distinguish them as princesses of the dynasty from the other noble ladies.”_

 

Daenerys left her chamber and advanced towards the Tower of Shaera, named in honour of her late grandmother. It was the most recent extension to the Red Keep, built by her brother between the courtyard and entrance to the castle to allow the female members of the royal family to observe state events where it was deemed inappropriate for them to physically attend. Pycelle’s imminent execution fit into this category.

 

She made her way through the corridors of the castle which were much quieter than usual owing to many of the people being outside for the execution. Those she passed bowed and curtsied to her as she nodded at them in return.

 

Once she arrived at the tower, she began climbing the stairs with her ladies in tow. She let out a deep breath once she reached the top and entered the chamber due to the fact that, judging by the number of women in the room, everyone had arrived and she was the last.

 

The room itself was square-sized, rather large and spacious. It was fairly empty of furniture as the room was seldom used but on the occasion it was, the women would stand in order to gain a better view of what was happening. At the front of the room was a vastly wide unglazed window that stretch from one side right to the other allowing all the women to see through and hear the proceedings outside. It was fitted with wooden bars at intervals to prevent someone from falling out.

 

There were maids aligned around the sides of the room and the noble women were standing in the middle in order of precedence, with the chief ladies-in-waiting in front along with the chief-treasurer, Lady Ashara, and the others in the back.

 

When the women noticed her arrive, they all obeisance to her and parted to allow her to pass to the front.

 

At the front stood Daenerys’ mother with Queen Elia on her right and Queen Cersei on her left. Princess Rhaenys stood to the left of Elia with Princess Alyssa on her sister’s left. Princess Visenya was standing to the right of Cersei. They all turned around at her approach and Daenerys gave a curtsy to her mother. All the royal women were bedecked in fine dresses with the three queens wearing mighty tiaras whilst the princesses wore the traditional jewelled headbands, in the style like the very own she wore.

 

Cersei and Elia also curtsied to Daenerys. The idea of consorts showing deference to royal princesses was a protocol pushed through by her own mother. Her mother had been of the opinion that Targaryen blood princesses should outrank women who married into the family in terms of the hierarchy within the palace, as princesses were the blood of the dynasty unlike consorts. Queens were still first ladies of the court and would stand beside the King in state affairs but they would now be behind the princesses in terms of the order of precedence. The exception, of course, being mothers curtsying to their daughters. _Convenient that mother is a Targaryen princess and queen. Though, Tywin Lannister had an issue with this but alas the protocol was still passed._

 

She took her place next to Alyssa. Once everyone had turned back around to face the front, looking out of the window, her mother spoke without breaking her gaze from the courtyard. “You’re late,” she said bluntly.

 

“Apologies mother, time ran faster than me.”

 

“Well, maybe next time you **ought** to sprint. I expect no tardiness again.”

 

Daenerys bowed her head in understanding. _Could have been worse._ She turned around to see where her ladies stood and saw Margaery standing ahead of Sansa. _Of course, woman thinks she’s practically the Crown Princess simply because she was betrothed to Aegon._ She spotted the younger Stark girl, Arya, standing directly behind the royals. “Sansa, stand next to your sister. You are the King’s cousin after all.” Sansa politely nodded and moved to follow the order. The princess glanced at Margaery and saw her face remain unreadable but if Daenerys hadn’t been trained by her mother to read the body language of people then she wouldn’t have noticed how the lady of Highgarden’s posture had stiffened. _Good, she needs a lesson in humility. She may be the ‘princess’ of Highgarden but that isn’t the case here._ Princess Daenerys faced forward once more and took in the scene in front of her.

 

Men and women were all gathered in the courtyard to witness the impending end of the former Grand Maester of the Seven Kingdoms. A man who had held that office for decades. Though noble women were discouraged from attending the execution, female commoners would often show up with a small crowd of commoners being permitted to enter in order to watch. There were Targaryen guards gathered all around the courtyard to maintain order whilst noble men were all standing close to the dais.

 

Daenerys could identify; all of the small council, Mace Tyrell and his three sons, Harrold Hardyng, some of the Martell princes and the heiress, the Sand Snakes, Brynden Tully, Renly Baratheon, Benjen Stark and his nephew Robb Stark. There were also new arrivals for the coronation that were present now; Jon Arryn and Salladhor Saan amongst others. Numerous lords from all across the Seven Kingdoms from minor and prominent houses to the Stepstones turned up. Daenerys even recognised many Lysene individuals from their complexion.

 

The execution block had been placed upon a raised dais where members of the Kingsguard stood. Her brother Viserys stood next to the small council on the dais, seemingly everyone was awaiting their monarch.

 

“I’m not sure if a young girl such as Visenya should watch this,” her mother expressed.

 

There was a moment’s pause before Cersei replied, “I believe she is old enough, Your Grace. She’s very mature for her age.”

 

Queen Rhaella spoke again, “Hmm, **that** she is.” She continued, “You were wise in keeping Daeron away. He is far too young.”

 

“My thoughts exactly, Your Grace,” even though Daenerys couldn’t help but think Cersei’s tone couldn’t sound more like she cared less about what her mother thought.

 

Her mother addressed everyone, “Ladies, some of you may not wish to see this so I suggest you look away or close your eyes when the time comes.” _That doesn’t apply to me. She’d want me to watch._

The herald ended all conversation in the tower and the courtyard, “ALL HAIL KING JAEHAERYS, THIRD OF HIS NAME.” Not even a second later, the King arrived, freshly bathed and dressed, followed by Sers Oswell and Jaime. Everyone in the crowd bowed and curtsied as the arriving party walked up the stairs and onto the dais.

 

Jon didn’t bother wasting time and nodded at Ser Evin who disappeared from view and reappeared, this time being followed by guards who were dragging a pathetic looking Pycelle. The maester’s arms were no longer bleeding, stumps now in the place where his hands once were. As Pycelle was escorted into the execution zone, hisses and jeers began to rise from the crowd. A select few had decided to shout insults and taunt the now disgraced maester whilst others at the front escalated further and spat at Pycelle.

 

Once Pycelle was placed before the execution block, Jon raised his hand to silence the crowd and spoke once more. “The guilty individual has been charged with oath-breaking, extortion and high treason, the sentence of which is death,” Jon had adopted a firm but icy tone when speaking, having ensured to project his voice so all could hear. “I **will** be executing the traitor myself in the ways of my mother’s homeland,” his eyes challenging anyone to question his decision. Though many were confused, wondering why the King would dirty his hands with a task such as this, Daenerys noticed some who respected the King’s decision, judging by their nod of approval – Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon to name a few. Those who held hesitancy towards the King’s choice did not share their views though, choosing to remain silent. The King extended his arm out for his sword which a Targaryen guard delivered. He pulled the weapon out of its scabbard and resumed his addressing of everyone, “Grand Maester Pycelle - I, Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, third of my name, sentence you to die.” This would be the part where the one being executed would state any final words they have but as that was impossible, that part was skipped. _He didn’t use his full titles, he’s only going to use them after he is crowned._

To take in the reactions of her company, Daenerys glanced from the corner of her eyes at the women standing next to her. Cersei’s face remained impassive, her three nieces were all indifferent. It was her first good-sister that interested her. Queen Elia was breathing heavily through her nose, Daenerys assumed, in anticipation for what was to occur. _Well, it’s no secret her contempt for the old man._ Her own mother had a determined look on her face. The Queen Grandmother didn’t even seem to be blinking, as if the possibility of closing her eyes, even for a fraction, could cause her to miss the ending of Pycelle. _Understandable, considering what she lost at the hands of that vile man._

Daenerys turned her head back in time to witness the King lifting his sword, the sunlight bouncing off the blade revealing its pointed edge and that it had been sharpened and polished. With one decisive clean strike, Jon brought the sword down, slicing through the neck of the Grand Maester. There were gasps of horror from some of the women whilst some, including Sansa Stark, had turned away. Her mother released a deep breath and closed her eyes, a burden lifting off the matriarch’s shoulders. _Justice for my brothers and sister._

 

* * *

 

**The Sword of the Morning**

Exhausted. Ser Arthur was exhausted. It was the following day from Pycelle’s execution and the knight was on his way to perform his duty. He was guarding the King today and was on route to relieve Ser Barristan. A page boy had arrived at the White Sword Tower, panting and puffing. The boy had informed him that he was to go to King Jaehaerys’ solar, formerly Rhaegar’s.

 

So, Arthur had promptly climbed out of bed and prepared for the day ahead. After he was dressed in his suit of armour, the Dayne left his chamber.

 

Now in Maegor’s Holdfast, advancing towards his destination, Ser Barristan was waiting outside.

 

“Ser Arthur,” the Bold greeted. Arthur inclined his head in return to greet his sworn brother. “You should prepare yourself. Something is happening,” Barristan declared cryptically.

The Sword of the Morning quirked his eyebrows in bewilderment. Barristan must have noticed his puzzlement for he addressed him once more, “You’ll find out soon,” was all he stated before striding away.

 

The Dornishman shook his head and knocked on the door.

 

“Enter.” Following his King’s command, Ser Arthur went inside the chamber and did a double take. The monarch was not the only other occupant of the room. Within also were; his sister - Lady Ashara Dayne, Ser Gerold Hightower and the Master of Laws – Stannis Baratheon. The King was sitting behind his desk while Ser Gerold stood to the right of the sovereign. The rigged-looking Lord Stannis and graceful Ashara were standing to the side. _What in seven hells is going on?_

 

He bowed to Jaehaerys and inclined his head at the Lord Commander then made his way to stand on the King’s left. The Dayne man glanced at his sister in a questioning look but received a shrug from his sister. _Clearly no one here besides the King actually knows what is happening._

“I will be making a significant decision today. It will be controversial for some but alas my mind is made up. I need all of your support today. Do I have that?” Naturally, the two Kingsguard responded in the affirmative.

 

“My role is to provide you with honest council, Your Grace, which I will do. However, no matter how controversial a decision it may be, if it is for the betterment of the realm then you have my absolute support,” the Master of Laws said in his usual resolute voice.

 

“Aye, I would not have expected otherwise from you and that is something I admire, My Lord. My Lady?” Jaehaerys turned to Ashara. Arthur looked at the King’s facial expression. _He may be the King but he’s still not fully comfortable with his role. He needs reassurance._

 

“Your Grace, you never need ask about my support. It is always with you.” The King smiled at the Dornishwoman’s words.

 

They were disturbed by knocking on the door. A herald entered, bowed and announced Jon Connington. “The Hand of the King, Your Grace.”

 

“Let him in.” the herald bowed, left and in walked Lord Connington who gave a deep bow.

 

“Your Grace,” he greeted in his gruff voice.

 

“My Lord, please join us,” the King invited. Lord Connington closed the door and made his way to stand next Lord Stannis, closest to the desk but stopped once Jaehaerys spoke again. “Actually, My Lord, please sit here.” He was gesturing to the chair opposite him on the other side of the desk.

 

Jon Connington appeared visibly surprised but quickly composed himself and complied, sitting in the designated chair.

 

For a moment, no one said a word. The King simply stared at Lord Connington who, for his benefit, looked confident. _If I hadn’t been a Kingsguard for years and hadn’t been trained to keep my face emotionless then now would be the time I’d be wearing a look of nervousness._

After inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose, the King looked directly in his Hand’s eyes. “Lord Connington, you are a clever man so I’m not going to insult your intelligence by beating around the bush about the reasons as to why we are here.” Arthur wished to scan the room to see if anyone had any idea of what was happening but he knew that decorum dictated that he keeps his gaze facing straight ahead. _I would look sloppy if I started looking around the room._ However, luckily Connington was in his line of vision from the corner of his eyes so Arthur could witness the Lord of Griffin’s Roost’s facial expressions.

 

The Hand maintained a mask of seriousness, merely listening. “You have directly undermined my authority by going against my orders regarding Grand Maester Pycelle. You reorganised the gaolers so that the result was less security outside of Pycelle’s cell.” _Oh Connington, why?_ Connington opened his mouth to seemingly defend his actions but the King raised his hand for silence. “I appreciate that it was never your intention for Pycelle to escape but, nevertheless, that is the situation that we found ourselves in.” _Is this the same boy who was too scared to ask me for help with sword training when he was a child?_ Jaehaerys folded his hands on his lap and continued, “Your insubordination didn’t end there. You instructed the Kings Justice to relax on his interrogation practices upon the maester despite the fact that we needed information from him as soon as possible. Your mercy on Pycelle cost us from discovering his true motives. The Kings Justice and gaolers of the dungeons seem to be in your pocket for they followed your orders over mine.”

 

Arthur was still reeling from the fact that the timid young boy he once knew was replaced with this confident young man. _Well done Ned Stark._ The Kingsguard had already been impressed with the King’s behaviour during the execution and respected him for taking Pycelle’s life himself. That was one of the Northern traditions that Arthur admired and respected.

 

“The punishment for disobedience is exile.” Lord Connington’s eyes widened at those words. “However, Lord Connington, you have served my father as Hand of the King for seventeen years. Seventeen good years. My father had great respect for you and it is only because of that respect he held for you that you will not be exiled.” The Lord of Griffin’s Roost let out a breath in relief.

 

“However, Lord Jon Connington, for your failure to comply with my orders and your direct insubordination, I strip you of your office as Hand of the King,” Jaehaerys commanded decisively, his gaze into Connington’s eyes unwavering. _What!_ There was a gasp from his sister after the King revealed his decision. Ser Arthur couldn’t help but take a quick glance of the room. Lord Stannis stood as rigid as ever but Arthur noticed something that was not in his eyes when he had entered the chamber. _Respect._

 

“Your Grace, please don’t make a drastic decision. Please don’t make a decision based off the influence of others.” _Is that a covert remark at Lord Stannis? Queen Rhaella?_

The King shook his head at Lord Connington in derision. “This. This is your problem Lord Connington. You believe, because of my age, that I’m incapable of making my own decisions. I’ll have you know I told no-one of my decision, not any of my councillors or my family. I can’t have a Hand who clearly has no belief in me. Your punishment also includes you being forbidden from ever entering the capital unless instructed otherwise by myself.” The King extended his hand towards Lord Connington as if demanding something. “The badge of office.” Lord Connington swallowed and simply stared at the King’s hand for a few beats. The King waited patiently for the former Hand of the King, letting him take his time. Finally, the Lord of Griffin’s Roost removed the badge from his jerkin and slowly placed it in the King’s hand. _I suppose removing him from the most powerful office in the realm and him being disgraced is enough punishment._

“I would like for you to remain in the capital until the coronation but if you wish to leave beforehand then I understand. It is entirely your decision.”

 

“I wish to remain in the capital until the coronation, Your Grace, so that I will be able to swear fealty to you.” _Don’t worry, I’m sure Jaehaerys would have made you swear fealty if you had chosen to leave early._

The King nodded, “Very well, we will have your belongings moved from the Tower of the Hand to a room in the Maidenvault. Lady Ashara will take care of this.” Connington looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. _Did you think you’d be allowed to stay in the tower despite not holding office? How would that look to everyone?_

 

“I’ll handle everything, Your Grace,” his sister confirmed.

 

“You’re dismissed, My Lord.” The Griffin’s Roost’s lord appeared disorientated for a second before he recollected himself. He stood up, bowed to the King then made began his way to the exit. _He only has himself to blame._

 

He stopped when the King spoke one more time, “Before you go, My Lord, House Targaryen thanks you for your service and wishes you good fortune for the future.”

 

Jon Connington nodded his head before departing from the room. _Arriving to the King’s solar as the Hand of the King, the second most powerful man in the realm, and leaving as a disgraced Lord of Griffin’s Roost._

 

* * *

 

Saying that word had spread about the Hand of the King’s dismissal like wildfire would be a major understatement. _Two members of the small council have been removed which has made everyone on edge. People wondering who will be next? Who will replace Jon Connington?_

 

Not even two days later had gossip risen in the court with some stupid lords and ladies even daring to approach Arthur and the other Kingsguard to question them as to whether the hundreds of rumours flying around had any truth. As if Arthur or the others would tell them anything. _We are all sworn to keep the secrets of the King._

 

With the dismissal, arose countless rumours about the reason why. These included that; Ned Stark was to be named Hand, Tywin Lannister had pushed for himself to be named, the King was frightened Lord Connington would become more powerful than him. _All ridiculous rubbish. It is natural though that everyone is shocked at the dismissal of the Hand who has served for seventeen years. For some of the younger people, they’ve never known a world where Jon Connington wasn’t Hand of the King._

 

The court was brimming with people now that the coronation was not long away and the number only kept increasing. The only place where Arthur could find peace was the White Sword Tower, the private section of the Royal garden and Maegor’s Holdfast, where the people were prohibited from entering, though if the guards weren’t there then he was sure people would try.

 

Ashara had been ranting about the influx of people in the capital and having to house them. She had finally found a solution with the Queen Grandmother. The Starks were all moved into Maegor’s Holdfast to vacate some of the chambers. Previously, the castle within a castle only held the royal family. Even the ladies-in-waiting and small council resided elsewhere. The former in the Maidenvault and latter in locations depending on their stations. However, now the King’s cousins lived there too. The eldest Stark girl had seemed extremely pleased about this change of events.

 

It was also agreed upon that along with Lord Connington, the great lords and their families would reside in the Maidenvault as well as the families of the ladies-in-waiting. _Except the Freys; only old Lord Walder, his latest wife, heir and his wife have been permitted to stay in the Keep. There’s gods damn too many of them._ The Martells and Lannisters had all been given rooms in the Maidenvault too.

Ashara had suggested that the Martells and Lannisters be allowed to stay in Maegor’s Holdfast but the Queen had rejected this notion. Ashara had told him that the Queen was open to the Martells staying but then they would have to allow the Lannisters too. His sister had laughed while telling him that the Queen had explicitly stated “I’m not inclined to allow the golden-haired rats to infest the Holdfast and convert it into Casterly Rock. I’d rather let old Rosby cough into my mouth than tolerate that happening.”

 

The other nobles had rented apartments and villas within the city for the time they were in King’s Landing.

 

Currently, there was a huge congregation just simply gathered outside the Tower of the Hand to watch the servants move Lord Connington’s things to the Maidenvault. _The vultures have come pecking._

 

Arthur was standing on the terrace that connected the great hall to the courtyard. He was overlooking the crowd, observing them. Olenna Tyrell was muttering in her granddaughter’s ear whilst Arianne Martell was standing with the Sand Snakes, the heiress looking at the tower calculatingly. Arthur could hear Harold Hardyng talking with Theon Greyjoy and Paxter Redwyne’s sons – Horas and Hobber. The Vale boy was speaking to his comrades as if he knew the reasons Connington was dismissed.

 

“……..royal family highly regard me. I have been here since I was a child. They trusted me enough to let me in on the true reasons Lord Connington was removed from office.” The Kraken boy had a look of doubt on his face but the other boys were lapping up Harold’s words. Arthur rolled his eyes at the boy. _Hardyng and the Greyjoy heir are made from the same cloth. Arrogant arses. Both lusting after any woman who graces them with a look. Though, the Hardyng boy has his sights set on Princess Alyssa as his ultimate conquest._ Arthur had had the misfortune of breaking up a fight between Aegon and Harold Hardyng when the former had overheard the latter boasting, in vulgarity, that he would make the princess his wife one day. The princess barely acknowledged his existence.

 

A herald arrived and attempted to quiet everyone. It took a while but eventually lull descended on the crowd.

 

The herald then began shouting, “LORDS AND LADIES, THERE WILL BE AN ANNOUNCEMENT SHORTLY IN THE THRONE ROOM WHERE ALL ARE INVITED TO ATTEND!” Once he finished, the herald left and the crowd exploded into chatter.

 

“Ser,” came an interruption. Arthur turned to find the herald standing next to him. _Seven hells, he moves fast._ “The Lord Commander wishes for your presence in the throne room.” Ser Arthur nodded and started making his way to the great hall.

 

Once Ser Arthur reached the doors to the throne room, the guards standing outside opened them for him. He strode in and found that Targaryen guards were lined up all around the edges of the room, presumably for crowd control with the captain of the guard, Ser Evin, standing near the front. That wasn’t the only difference for upon the dais just below the stairs of the iron throne one small golden red velvet chair had been placed.

 

The other four Kingsguard had already arrived and were standing next to the temporary throne. Walking hurriedly, Ser Arthur inclined his head at Ser Gerold and stood in his place. _What’s happening now?_ _Rhaegar made great changes when he rose to power, now it seems his son has the same intentions._

“Do you know what’s going on?” Ser Arthur directed towards Ser Oswell.

 

He received a shrug in response, “Beats me. Maybe the King is planning on burning Lord Connington. Follow in the footsteps of his grandfather and what he did to his Hand, Qarlton Chelsted.” Arthur had known Ser Oswell for a very long time, both having joined the Kingsguard at roughly the same occasion and he considered Oswell as his closest sworn-brother, but even after all these years, his dark sense of humour still somewhat disturbed Arthur.

 

“What about that throne? Why’s that there?”

 

“The King pronounced that he would not sit upon the Iron Throne until his coronation hence that more comfortable throne. It escapes me why no-one would rather that one over the beast in the back. At least the smaller one doesn’t have a fight with one’s arse.” Arthur chuckled at Oswell’s words. “We still need to two men to fill in the roles of Martell and Darry.” Arthur noticed that Oswell’s tone became much more serious at the mention of their late sworn brothers with all hint of mirth gone. “Of course, no-one can ever replace them but there needs to be seven. Any idea on the candidates? My money is on the Blackfish.”

 

“Maybe, but he is old. I’m not sure the King will choose him.”

 

“He may be old but he’s still a brilliant fighter.”

 

“Yes well, you would know. He’s knocked your arse into the dirt several times.”

 

As the two were conversing, the throne room had gradually been filling up. Arthur assessed the people within the room, identifying who was present. Many of the people were staring at the dragon skeletons and the Iron Throne. Some likely seeing them for the first time and others who had seen them before taking it all in again. _You can never truly get bored at looking the skulls. Every child hears stories of dragons and the Iron Throne and it isn’t until one arrives here that they fully appreciate the stories._ There were new arrivals such as Randyll Tarly, stood next to him was, whom Arthur assumed, were his wife and two sons as well as his daughter who was a lady-in-waiting to Princess Daenerys. His wife was easily distinguishable due to her prominent ears reminiscent of Queen Rhaella’s chief lady-in-waiting, Selyse Florent. Arthur couldn’t help but internally laugh at Tarly nastily. The man was unwaveringly loyal to House Targaryen and he may be a great general and tactician but he was an awful man. One can gain an accurate insight into the character of an individual through the way they treat their inferiors and Tarly’s treatment of people he deems ‘unsuitable’ to his expectation of how everyone should be being abysmal. The fact that one of his sons was certainly not what Tarly would have wanted of his progeny was a lesson from the gods to teach Tarly grace. Arthur just felt pity for the boy who was trapped with Tarly as a father.

 

Continuing his scanning of the room, he spotted Lannisters gathered together, huddled near Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s brothers Kevan and his children as well as the Master of Coin’s sister, Genna Lannister with her weasel looking husband and their children.

 

The Tyrells were gathered together, the Queen of Thorns in the centre with her two children Mace and Mina, their spouses - including the Master of Ships - and Olenna’s seven grandchildren.

 

The Arryns. Jon Arryn with his wife – Lysa Tully. The lady seemed to be talking animatedly to a man standing in their retinue. The man was thin, had a pointed beard and wore a plum coloured doublet with a mockingbird threaded on the chest area. Despite Lysa Tully clearly speaking to him, the skinny man seemed to be distracted by the throne room, looking around and evidently taking everything in. His eyes roving over the dragon carvings on the walls, the tapestries that adorned the great hall as well as the countless Targaryen guards lined up around the room. His ogling moved towards the Targaryen dragon skulls, examining each one and finally his sight rested upon the Iron Throne, his eyes widening before turning back into their original stance. _The man looks like a virgin in a brothel._

 

Arthur’s assessment of the people was placed on pause when many of them turned towards the entrance and started whispering. In entered Lord Selwyn Tarth and a large man in breeches and a blue jerkin. _What’s so special about the……….oh._ The Sword of the Morning tried to turn away but couldn’t help gawk like everyone else. _It’s not that it’s a woman dressed in men’s clothes. Hells, I hail from Dorne, but rather that the woman looked nothing like a woman at all._ He had heard stories of Brienne of Tarth but had never paid any attention, after all in Dorne women fighting was nothing special. However, this woman is built to be a warrior. Her frame will only help her silence all those who mock her. _Gods help anyone who crosses her._

“ALL HAIL; KING JAEHAERYS, THIRD OF HIS NAME, THE QUEEN GRANDMOTHER, PRINCE VISERYS, QUEEN ELIA, QUEEN CERSEI AND THE PRINCESSES RHAENYS AND DAENERYS.”

 

The royal family had entered from a door at the back and moved towards the dais. Everyone bowed and curtsied as they took their positions in order of precedence. The King sat on the temporary throne, the Queen Grandmother stood to the left of the King, Viserys on the right, the two Queens on the left of Queen Rhaella and the two princesses on the left of the two Queens. The Queens were wearing tiaras, Queen Rhaella notably wore the biggest with the princesses in their diamond bands.

 

Prince Viserys had recovered from the attack and was now fully healed. Initially, the princes’ attempt to restrain the perpetrator had been overshadowed by the actual attack but as time went on, Viserys’ valiant behaviour had grown popular with the people. Many commending him for his actions in defeating all the traitors. _He fought off five men alone._

 

“My lords and ladies, you have all heard of the office of the Hand of the King being vacated recently. Lord Connington has been a loyal faithful councillor to House Targaryen for seventeen years. However, due to conflicts of interest it has been decided that he would step down from his position so he can devote his full attention to the running of Griffin’s Roost.” There were murmurs from a select few of the nobles. _‘Conflicts of interest,’ that could mean anything. The King is trying to prevent Lord Connington from being disgraced. Well, less disgraced than he already is. Trickles of the true story have spread out there._

“This leaves a vacancy in the office of the Hand of the King.” The whispers rose in excitement. _Many of the power-hungry leeches will be eyeing up the position._ “I wish not to keep this fundamental role absent therefore I will be naming a new Hand of the King.”

 

The King stood up and out of his pockets, pulled out the badge of the Hand of the King. The Dornishman saw the way many of the eyes were following the badge, desire held in them. King Jaehaerys began walking, everyone’s gaze following his steps, wondering who would gain the position of the second most powerful man in the realm. Tywin Lannister, Mace Tyrell and even the skinny man with the goatee’s gazes never parting from the King’s palm where the badge was clutched.

 

King Jaehaerys had taken barely three steps before stopping and turning his frame so that the right side of his body was facing the crowd.

 

“Prince Viserys of the House Targaryen, I would name you the Hand of the King.” Arthur had to refrain from opening his mouth in shock and fight to keep his face blank. The reactions were all different, depending on where you looked.

 

The Starks were smiling whilst Tywin Lannister’s nostrils flared. Mace Tyrell was muttering in his mother’s ear, and on her part, she seemed like she couldn’t care less what her son was ranting about. Stannis Baratheon gave a nod of approval and the two princesses smiled for their brother and uncle. The Queen Grandmother’s eyes were wide before she broke into a wide smile for her son.

 

“This is a remarkable honour. Thank you, Your Grace,” the Prince breathed out in obvious gratitude. He bent the knee before his nephew and the King fastened the badge on his uncle’s person. Once secured, Viserys rose and, along with Jaehaerys, turned to face the crowd who broke into thunderous applause.

 

_May the gods grant him accomplishment and favourable outcome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to name the chapter 'Arya vs the cat' or 'Arya vs Balerion' but changed by mind.
> 
> Before people jump to conclusions that Ned is the father of Ashara's child, remember that Ned defended Ashara in canon against Catelyn. Those who don't believe in the Ned/Ashara theory believe that Ned did this simply to defend the honour of a woman who was not there to defend herself. 
> 
> Consorts showing deference to princesses is not unique but actually common. In the UK, Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle have to curtsy to the blood princesses. Furthermore, in the Ottoman Empire the Imperial Princesses always ranked higher than the Consorts. 
> 
> The conversation between Oswell and Arya was actually more gruesome with Oswell going into more detail about burning flesh but I thought against it. Oswell was said to have a dark sense of humour in canon but I don't know if he would traumatise a little girl, especially considering Arya's grandfather was burnt alive.
> 
> I hate writing smut simply for the reason that I don't think I'm that good at it but I tried my best. 
> 
> The coronation will be in two chapters. A little teaser of the next chapter - it will have a lot of arrivals (including a certain dwarf, Greyjoys and more Starks). 
> 
> I think I've said everything.
> 
> Please leave a comment as I love reading them and they fuel my motivation! 
> 
> Subscribe, bookmark and kudos!


	9. Influx at King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Hand of the King plunges into his role, Sansa witnesses the dark side of the capital and Tyrion relishes in the events surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay, I am in my final year at university so I'm in the process of writing my dissertation and therefore it's a really busy year. 
> 
> This fic is still very much active and will continue to be updated. The updates may just be sporadic due to time constraints.
> 
> I am also in the process of updating the previous chapters and have updated the first three chapters, changing a few minor things and removing stuff that I cringed at and made me wonder what I was thinking when I wrote it. 
> 
> Everyone enjoying the new 'Fire and Blood' book? I'm loving it and it includes a whole lot of new information which I can use in this story. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**The Hand of the King**

“So, you agree that it was a good idea?”

 

The newly appointed Hand of the King nodded his head in accord. “Yes, it is brilliant! It only reinforces the supremacy of House Targaryen.”

 

“Aye, but I also believe father wanted this too. Not to mention it cost an arm and a leg,” Jaehaerys mumbled in a morose tone.

 

Viserys shot up from his seat, “no, I refuse to sit here whilst you fall into one of your melancholy moods, which I might add your father also loved doing.”

 

Jon raised his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright.”

 

Viserys placed two goblets on the desk and filled them with wine, “one of my assigned duties is to ensure you do not look so grim all the time.”

 

His nephew quirked an eyebrow to indicate for him to elaborate, “Rhaenys asked me to ensure you do not drown in your melancholy, which I happen to agree with,” he explained to his nephew. Viserys received a smile from the King before continuing, “are you sure about the other thing? This new position you have created?”

 

“I am sure Uncle. The realm is no longer just Seven Kingdoms. It has expanded, and this new position is required.”

 

“But do you really think….” He was prevented from completing his sentence by the knock on the door.

 

“Enter.”

 

The chamber door opened, and Ser Jaime entered. “Prince Oberyn to see you, Your Grace and Lord Hand.”

 

“Let him in.”

 

Ser Jaime left, presumably to allow the Viper inside. “You know, I think people will be confused on how to address you – ‘Lord Hand’ or ‘Your Royal Highness’.”

 

He looked at his nephew and conceded he had a valid point. “I would prefer them to address me as Lord Hand, if you do not mind, Your Grace. I want everyone to see me as your Hand and, in time, hopefully someone who has built something worthwhile as Hand instead of just the King’s uncle.” The two had moved into their positions; the King sitting behind his desk and his Hand standing to his right.

 

“Why would I mind? It is your choice.”

 

Conversation ceased when the Red Viper entered the chamber. He gave a bow to the King and inclined his head at Viserys. “Your Grace, Lord Hand. Congratulations on your recent promotion,” the latter part had been directed at Viserys.

 

Viserys smiled, “Thank you.”

 

“Prince Oberyn, take a seat please.”

  
The Dornish Prince eyed the two Targaryens before complying with the King’s order. Viserys could see that Oberyn was trying to decipher the reasoning behind his summons by attempting to read the King and Hand’s faces. Unfortunately for him, neither were strangers to the ways of King’s Landing and were aware on how to mask their faces.

 

There was a long moment where no-one spoke but simply stared at each other. A contest of sorts to stare one another out. The King and the Red Viper both wanting to see who would break first.

 

Eventually, the corner of the Dornish Prince’s lips twitched, and he smirked.

 

The King initiated the conversation. “What exactly is your role in the small council, Prince Oberyn?”

 

The smirk fell just as quickly as it was formed. _He is unused to someone so direct and blunt. Good. It would do him some good to humble that enormous ego of his._

 

The King extended his arm across the desk and placed a goblet in front of the prince, filling it with wine. Once replete, the King returned the jug to his desk and folded his hands, placing them on his lap. “To calm your nerves,” the King stated simply with a small amused smile. _Well done nephew._

 

The Prince blinked before breaking into a smile. He took a sip of his drink. “Hmm, Dornish Red. You have good taste, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you. Now, you have not answered my question, Prince.”

 

Lowering his cup from his lips, the Red Viper replied, “Your father named me as one of his principal advisors.”

 

“Aye, I am aware. However, I think that was a mistake.”

 

Viserys noted the flash of anger in Oberyn’s eyes. A small part of Viserys felt glee when he saw this. _Do not jump to conclusions, Viper._

“House Martell are a respected house and the late King saw fit to allow them to have a voice at the small council. After all, it is not as if there are any other Dornishmen on the council to represent the interests of Dorne. **One  **of the Seven Kingdoms **you  **rule.”

 

“You did not let me finish, Prince Oberyn. You are a valued member of my council and House Martell certainly has a special place in the realm. I regard Queen Elia as a mother figure and Rhaenys is very precious to me.” The Viper calmed at the King’s words and took another swig of his drink before helping himself to a refill. “I was going to say I think that it was a mistake to merely name you as an advisor when your expertise makes you perfectly qualified to fill an official role on the council.”

 

Oberyn let out a snort. “Your Grace, I know I studied at the Citadel for a time, but I would hardly argue that that qualifies me to take the position as Grand Maester. Even then, that position is for the Citadel’s conclave to determine.”

 

“Not Grand Maester. Prince Viserys and I have been discussing the current status of circumstances and the Hand has provided a brilliant suggestion that I believe holds great merit.” _Ah, so that is what pride and recognition feel like. People would often forget me when I and Rhaegar were in the same room, Rhaegar included._

Oberyn raised one eyebrow in order to indicate for the King to elaborate.

 

“Prince Oberyn of House Martell, I would name you the first Master of Foreign Affairs.”

 

The Red Viper simply blinked at the King’s words. _Call the bards; for the Dornish Prince is speechless for a first._

 

This was a special moment, for Viserys could not recall the Dornish Prince being so serious and alert, “The Master of Foreign Affairs? A new position?”

 

“Aye. You are well-travelled and knowledgeable in the customs of countries and cities of Essos and beyond. Furthermore, with the addition of the Stepstones and Lys into the realm it is not only natural but wise to create this position.”

 

The prince took another gulp before asking, “what would the role entail, Your Grace?”

 

The King looked at Viserys to indicate for him to answer the question. “The position of Master of Foreign Affairs would make you responsible for the Viceroys as they will be reporting directly to you. Furthermore, you will be obligated to maintain good relations with foreign lands, for instance the Free Cities, the Summer Isles and the nations of Sothoryos. You will be the first line of contact that foreign dignitaries will go to in order to speak to the King. You are essentially acting as a representative of the Iron Throne, to represent the interests of the Iron Throne.”

 

“You are to report of political changes and developments within other nations to the small council where I presume some of your duties may….. **overlap  **with the Master of Whispers.” Viserys knew that Oberyn knew what he meant judging by the glee in Oberyn’s eyes and the small quivering of his lips, fighting to not smile. _Begin the untangling of the spider’s web._

 

“You will also be attending state affairs on behalf of the Seven Kingdoms and its dominions and will advise the King on foreign affairs.”

 _The following should secure him to the position._ “You will also possess the authority to broker and negotiate agreements with foreign powers, with the approval of the King, of course. The job will entail a lot of travelling which I am aware you would greatly appreciate.”

 

The Dornish Prince remained emotionless, seeming to contemplate the Hand’s words. _Stop pretending as if you are actually thinking about this. It is a step-up from being merely a generic advisor._ Oberyn Martell eventually broke into a full smile, “I am honoured, Your Grace and Lord Hand. I accept.”

 

“Excellent. The Hand will announce your new appointment to the court in due course,” the King declared.

 

The Master of Foreign Affairs stood and bowed to Jaehaerys, making his exit.

 

As soon as the doors closed, Prince Viserys turned to the King and expressed his concerns,

 

“Are we sure about this? He is unpredictable and impulsive, not to mention his ultimate loyalty will always be to his sister.”

 

“You should have more faith in your decisions. Aye, he is unpredictable and impulsive but what benefit could he serve Elia? She has no other sons and she can hardly place Rhaenys on the throne. For one thing, this is not Dorne where everyone would merely accept a woman. Secondly, I trust my sister implicitly. Not to mention with Oberyn constantly travelling, it will only distance him from Elia and curb her influence.” _I have to say, I am impressed, nephew. I was thinking about one thing, but you have just killed two birds with one stone – found a suitable Master of Foreign Affairs and weakened the Dornish influence at court._ “Now to deal with Cersei.”

 

“I know what to do. I will get those…….’arrangements’ underway very soon and set things into motion.”

 

“Good.” A knock on the door prevented conversation from resuming. “Enter.”

 

A page boy entered the solar and bowed to the King. “Your Grace; Lord Hand,” he greeted, “You asked to be notified when the Stark retinue arrived. It has been sighted nearing Aegon’s High Hill.”

 

Jon shot up and clapped his hands in exhilaration. He beamed and started advancing towards the exit. “Come Uncle, our newest arrivals await us.”

 

* * *

 

The nobility of King’s Landing was present, all of whom were unaware of the extra arrival amongst the Stark party. Prince Viserys was standing at the forefront, the small council next to him. Besides himself, only the King and the Queen Grandmother knew the identity of the imminent arrival.

 

The party were all assembled in the harbour of King’s Landing, the principal harbour of the Seven Kingdoms. Gold cloaks and Targaryen guards aligned the sides, preventing the populace from coming too close. The newly arrived Edmure Tully as well as the heir to Winterfell and his younger brother - Bran Stark, and uncle - Benjen Stark, stood to the front with the council, ready to greet the people on board the now anchoring ship.

 

Whilst waiting, Viserys could not help but be amused at how fast word had spread regarding the creation of a new post and the incumbent of that office. _The Viper could not wait for everyone to find out, particularly certain Lannisters. He literally left the chamber and began telling his sister, only to be overheard in the hallway._ Oberyn then began receiving congratulations from the people. _Is it even worth announcing it at the next court session? I wonder how many of the compliments are honest. No doubt many are false, hidden behind jealousy. I notice none of the roses have congratulated him._

 

Tywin Lannister decided to fill the silence, “Who is it that we are waiting for out here like commoners? The King did not order us all out here to welcome his Northern uncle, did he?” The Master of Coin had a look of derision plastered upon his face, an underlying hint of fury in his words which Viserys disliked. Tywin made no effort in lowering his voice which caused the Starks waiting with them to throw enraged expressions at Tywin.

 

Withholding from rolling his eyes, the Hand did not even entertain the notion of delivering his full attention to the Lannister lord, maintaining his sights forward when replying. “No, you are not here to welcome the Starks but someone worthy of your deference, Lord Tywin.”

 

Thanking the gods when the Stark guards began to disembark from the ship disabling any further questions from being asked, Viserys smiled at the emerging Lord and Lady Stark as they stopped in front of him and bowed in respect.

 

“Your Royal Highness,” the Warden of the North greeted.

 

“Lord Stark, you are welcome to the capital. The King also wishes to extend his gratitude in escorting our esteemed and newest arrival. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

 

“It was no bother. It was an honour, in fact.” When another figure who was walking with a stick was being helped down from the ship by two page boys, a herald revealed the identity of the individual. _Best to announce his name, status and role here, where everyone is already gathered._

“Make way for Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of King Maekar I, newly appointed Grand Maester of the Seven Kingdoms.” There was an instantaneous ripple of chattering amongst the crowd but just as immediately, everyone bowed having processed the title used by the herald before his name. _Many likely forgot he even existed._

The aged man was brought before him. “Maester Aemon, welcome back to the capital.”

 

Aemon Targaryen inhaled deeply through his nose, “Still has the same smell even after all these years.”

 

Viserys chuckled, “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

 

“Pleasant as can be expected considering Lord Stark refused to allow me to stand on deck for the majority of the time. Though, I must say Lady Stark made for good company.”

 

Lady Stark blushed, “You flatter me, Maester.”

 

“Come, my mother has been eagerly anticipating your arrival and the King awaits.”

 

* * *

 

Pausing outside the doors of the Queen’s Ballroom, Viserys turned to the Starks with him. “The page boy will escort you to your chambers, My Lord. You will be residing in Maegor’s Holdfast along with your other children. They should be waiting for you. We will give you some privacy. The King will be visiting you shortly.”

 

Lord Stark bowed his head before leaving with his wife, children and retinue.

 

The Hand of the King motioned for the doors to be opened and entered the room with Maester Aemon who was helped by his two aides. Standing inside the room was the King along with the royal family, in order of precedence.

 

Moving and stopping in front of the Jaehaerys; the Hand of the King, the newly appointed Grand Maester and his two servants bowed to the monarch. Simultaneously, Queen Elia and Queen Cersei along with the princesses curtsied to both Princes Viserys and Aemon.

 

“Maester Aemon, welcome to King’s Landing or should I say welcome back,” Jon stated warmly. _Not that he can see the gesture but if rumours are true, he remains as perceptive as ever._

“Thank you, Your Grace. However, I have to ask why you would want an old man serving on your small council. Would it not have been more prudent to have appointed a younger man?”

 

“The Unlikely did the same thing and the result was Pycelle who ended up serving his own self-interests in the end rather than the castle he was sworn to serve. Not to mention I am just fulfilling not only my father’s wish to have you here but our ancestor, your father, King Maekar’s desire to have you serve on the small council. You refused then as you did not want to displace the Grand Maester of the time, well that is no longer an issue now.”

 

Maester Aemon gave a kind smile and nodded his head. “I have one condition, I will be referred to as only Maester Aemon, not prince. I forfeited that title when I made my vows at the Citadel.”

 

“Certainly, Maester Aemon. Now, allow me to introduce you to everyone. My grandmother, Queen Rhaella.”

 

Viserys’ mother stepped forward, “Grand Uncle Aemon. It is wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh. Aunt Rhaelle would often talk about you.” His mother extended her hands which the wizened maester grabbed a hold of.

 

“It is wonderful to meet you too. I have heard a great many things about the formidable Queen Rhaella.”

 

His mother was taken aback slightly but quickly recovered, “All good things I hope.”

 

“Most definitely. The late King would mention you in his ravens.”

 

The mention of Rhaegar brought a touch of sadness to his mother’s face which was quickly repressed. Jon noticed it too for he spoke to break the silence. “This is my stepmother, Queen Elia.”

 

“Elia of House Martell? My grandmother was of Sunspear too, the late Queen Mariah Martell. Her marriage laid the foundations for another marriage to take place which would lead to the Principality of Dorne coming under Targaryen rule.”

 

“It did, Maester. Dorne entered the fold peacefully, without being subjugated.” Elia stated politely and returned to her place.

 

The sighted Targaryens eyed one another but Maester Aemon simply brushed the comment, “aye, Dorne was not subjugated but my dear girl, you are aware how Dorne was united, are you not? Queen Nymeria used subjugation. For the greater good, one could argue. House Targaryen sought to do the same.”

 

Elia forced a smile whilst Viserys noticed Cersei smirk. Viserys rolled his eyes and watched the maester be introduced to the rest of the family.

 

“This is my late father’s third wife, Queen Cersei Lannister.” _Not stepmother, I see. I do not blame him. The disease of the family._

“Welcome to King’s Landing, Maester Aemon,” Cersei expressed sweetly. Aemon smiled and nodded his head.

 

“My brother Prince Daeron.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Maester,” Daeron shyly stated.

 

Aemon laughed, “He sounds like Egg.”

 

“Oh, he looks like grandfather to, Maester. I am sure he will be as strong as him one day,” his mother chimed in. Daeron beamed at the praise from his grandmother who smiled kindly at him in turn.

 

“Let us hope. Those are some big shoes to fill,” Aemon said.

His nephew continued with the introductions. “My sisters, the Princesses Rhaenys, Alyssa and Visenya.”

 

“Ah, named for the Conqueror’s wives and good-daughter.”

 

All three extended polite pleasantries.

 

“Finally, my aunt – Princess Daenerys.”

 

“Named for the woman who was the half of the marriage which unified Dorne with the Seven Kingdoms. I am sure you are just as beautiful as she was.”

 

“She assuredly is,” his nephew responded which caused Daenerys to redden and look at the floor in embarrassment. _Courteous nephew. You will have a way with the ladies._ The King looked away from his sister, who was still facing the ground. _She was always so shy._

 

Jaehaerys faced Aemon. “I also need to notify you that all the acolytes who served Pycelle have been dismissed. The Citadel has sent new replacements to serve and support yourself.” _Dismissed back to the Citadel with the exception of Acolyte Rodner who was sent to serve the maester at Dragonstone. His punishment was banishment from the capital but his reward for speaking up was allowing him to continue serving House Targaryen, but at the seat of the Crown Prince._

 

Maester Aemon merely nodded before Jon hesitated and continued. “You should know that the Citadel also saw fit to send an assistant maester to serve you and before you ask, this maester is not here as a future replacement as he is much younger than the general age Grand Maesters are normally appointed.” Viserys had to refrain from scoffing. _Man has been sent to keep watch on us. The conclave evidently felt a Targaryen Grand Maester will be more loyal to the family rather than to the Citadel. They fear a Targaryen maester will not sufficiently report on our doings._

He then spoke up, “I will escort you to the Rookery, Maester Aemon.” Receiving a nod from the aged man, Viserys motioned for the two-page boys to help the maester and follow him.

 

* * *

 

Moments later, the two Targaryens entered the Rookery where the Grand Maester’s new small army of aids were waiting. They bowed to himself and Maester Aemon when they filed into the room.

 

“Well, introduce yourself to the Grand Maester,” Viserys directed at the acolytes. However, the first to speak was not the acolytes but Aemon’s….. _apprentice? assistant? Well, whatever he is I’d call him a nuisance._

The man was a few years greater than himself. Wearing the traditional garb and chain of a maester, he was short and fairly handsome; his golden hair was cut small and he was of a thin frame. “It is an honour to meet you, Grand Maester. I am Maester Yandel, your assistant maester. It is a pleasure to serve yourself.”

 

“You mean serve the castle. No-one serves me; they serve the castle,” Aemon bluntly stated. _He is definitely a Targaryen._

Yandel looked visibly shocked but seemingly wished to remain on good terms with Maester Aemon judging by his following words, “I meant no offence,” he was quick to reassure.

 

“And you gave none, maester. Now, are you going to allow the others to introduce themselves?”

 

“Of course, of course,” the younger maester returned back in line. _Eager to please, that one. But we must still remain vigilant. If mother’s sources are to be believed, then on one side the Citadel sent Yandel thinking that his absolute loyalty will be with them as they raised him from when he was merely a babe. However, on the other side, he also has a fascination with House Targaryen and their history which could work in our favour. The question is, which side will win?_

The Hand of the King looked at the acolytes to indicate for them to introduce themselves. They were all much younger than their predecessors. In the middle stood a boy who had skin the colour of teak, wore doeskin breeches, a snug green brigandine with iron studs and was likely fairly intelligent judging by the fact that he had earned three links; the second boy had red hair and brown eyes, a long pointed noise and must have also been bright as he also possessed links for his chain but unlike the first, this one had four links. Viserys knew that the three other boys were not acolytes but novices who, alongside aiding Maester Aemon with his duties, would also be trained by Maester Yandel. One of the novices was black of hair, had thick arms and broad shoulders; the second had brown hair and was pale, soft and pasty-faced; the third was a chunky boy who looked as if he was short of manhood.

 

It was the boy who had the colour of teak who spoke first in a confident voice, “Pleasure to meet you Grand Maester, I am Alleras. I will serve as your underling.”

 

He was followed by the red-haired boy with the four links, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Name is Armen, I will also serve as your underling, Grand Maester.”

 

“Grand Maester Aemon, I’m Novice Roone and I’m very good with numbers which is why I will be serving you as your bookkeeper,” said the chunky novice.

 

Next to speak was the brown-haired pasty-faced boy, “Grand Maester, I am Novice Pane. I used to care for the ravens in The Ravenry which is why I’ll be supporting yourself in tending to the ravens.”

 

Finally, there was one remaining – the boy with the thick arms. “I’m Novice Mollander and I will be your personal aid, Grand Maester.” _So, essentially a personal servant. You must have definitely irked the Seneschal and the conclave._

 

Grand Maester Aemon simply gave a firm nod to everyone. “Very well. I assume the Grand Maester’s chambers are still beneath the Rookery?” Without waiting for a response, the Grand Maester began, on his own, making his way to his chamber. _He can walk there on his own? And is he trying to prove a point?_ The Grand Maester’s aids all gawped after Aemon. _Maybe his point worked – he is not completely helpless as they likely believed._ Viserys smirked and made his exit.

 

* * *

 

As Viserys was making his way to the Tower of the Hand, his mind wandered to the changes that had transpired since Jaehaerys’ ascension to the throne. _A new Hand of the King, a new Grand Maester as well as all new acolytes and an assistant maester. Master of Foreign Affairs; a new position on the small council, and there are more changes to come. Jon will certainly leave his mark, that is for sure._

As he neared his new chamber he noticed guards that were not his own. _Mother. Well, better get this over with._

Opening the door, he found his mother sitting at the settee at the foot of hid bed. Viserys closed the door behind him and bowed to the matriarch. “Mother,” he greeted.

 

The Queen Dowager extended the back of her hand and Viserys approached her, holding and kissing it. He sat next to her and waited for her to inform him of the reasoning behind her presence.

 

His mother grabbed his hand and held it in her own in affection, “I have not had the opportunity to congratulate you on your new position.”

 

He smiled, “thank you. I was as surprised as you were.”

 

“I am glad. You have your own role now and your own purpose which I hope you will carry out with grace.” His mother was giving the look he had known since childhood. The look she would give when she wanted you to give a specific answer.

 

“I will. I promise you. I am extremely grateful to Jon for allowing me this chance to prove myself.” He paused, deciding whether to say what was on his mind but the prodding look his mother gave decided for him, “I am thankful to Jon for even seeing me which is more than Rhaegar ever did. Jon actually values my advice and recognises my potential, believing in me. Whether he heeds it in the end is his prerogative, at least he listens and considers it which is more than Rhaegar ever did. That was all I ever wanted. To be appreciated and viewed as a person.”

 

Queen Rhaella looked at her son for a considerable amount of time before she spoke. “It is never easy to be a second or even a third-born son in this world. You are constantly overlooked in favour of the first-born, the heir who will inherit everything. I am sure Ned Stark felt the same towards his brother and I am sure Stannis Baratheon felt the same towards the usurper. However, the gods have a funny way of playing with us because both of those men’s older brothers are gone, killed by Targaryens, and now their younger brothers administer the North and the Stormlands. Perhaps it is your time to shine now that Rhaegar is gone.” Rhaella released a breath, “I had hoped you and Rhaegar could be like Aegon III and Viserys II; that he would rule, and you would aid him but sadly it was not meant to be.” His mother looked into the fire that was burning in the hearth, entranced in her thoughts. “He was not perfect, you know - contrary to belief. Everyone thought he was the perfect man, but he was still simply a man and like other men he had his faults too. One of them was his blindness to see the good that was right in front of him,” here Rhaella squeezed her son’s hand. “Maybe he even had his own version of madness, but his madness was his obsession with the prophecy. That prophecy that almost cost this family dearly.” Viserys agreed with his mother but he did not want to feed into memories and choices of the past.

 

He disliked seeing his mother like this so decided to lighten the atmosphere. “Enough about the past, we have a new King and a bright future ahead of us.”  
  
Queen Rhaella smiled, “That we do.”

 

As if on cue, there was a knock followed by the doors opening and the King entering. Instinctively, both the Hand and the Queen Grandmother stood up, bowing and curtseying respectively. Jaehaerys approached his grandmother and kissed her extended hand.

 

“Are you well?” the King directed at the dowager queen.

 

He received a nod in response, “Yes. All the better seeing you.” She paused before resuming, “I heard you created a new post on the small council. I can see the need for them but are you sure about the appointee? I mean, is it wise to give the Martells more power?”

The King smiled, “There is a reason behind this grandmother, do not fret.”

 

However, fret was exactly what Queen Rhaella did. _She’s used to influencing the politics of the realm._ “My winged-wolf, appointing Prince Ober…….”

 

His mother’s words were cut off by the King raising his hand. “Grandmother, I respect you and greatly value your advice. However, that does not mean you can interfere in all aspects of the ruling of the realm. I know about your role in convicting Pycelle,” his mother had plastered a look of indifference which did not waver, “You really expect me not to realise something is wrong when a serving girl, whom for many years never spoke up and could barely get a sentence out, suddenly, not only discovers this new-found confidence, but recounts events like it is her life’s mission? And before you say it, I know what she said was true and the evidence does make Pycelle guilty, but it does not change the fact that you coached and paid her. You may have been emotionally invested in the case but that does not afford you the right to interfere with justice and the law.” The King looked directly into the matriarch’s eyes, “I will not have anyone stating that I am your puppet. You will give your advice whenever required as is your right and duty and I will certainly heed your voice, if I find it appropriate. However, you will not interfere behind my back.” The King raised his head slightly before stating his final words, “you rule the palace, nothing more.”

 

Nor the Hand of the King or the Queen Grandmother said anything after the King finished his sentence. He maintained his stare at Rhaella who returned the look. Viserys looked between the two, wishing to defuse the situation but was aware that this was not his fight. _Jaehaerys is right. It had to be said or else she would meddle in the future. She did it enough with Rhaegar. I am sure that was the reason she came to my chamber in the first place._

 

“Everything I do is for House Targaryen and for you,” with that Queen Rhaella curtsied and left the chamber. The King and his Hand exchanged looks before both sighing. _This is going to be a lot more challenging than I thought and it is only day one._

* * *

 

**The Red Wolf**

 

Placing the diadem atop her head, Sansa stood back and waited for the princess to comment upon her handiwork, nervously picking her fingernails.

 

Princess Daenerys stood up and turned around, “it looks beautiful, Lady Sansa,” she directed towards her with a beam. Sansa broke into a smile as well.

 

“It’s a little plain, is it not, Your Royal Highness?” Lady Margaery was the one who had spoken. Sansa struggled to understand the Tyrell lady. _One moment she will be asking me about Winterfell and the antics we would get up to, asking about all my brothers and sisters. Her favourites were the stories with Jon. However, the next moment she would deliver unnecessary remarks such as now._

“Sometimes the simple styles can be the most elegant. One does not always need to be covered in finery. Elaborate styles and finery cannot create grace and class, something Lady Sansa has a great deal of.” Sansa blushed at the princesses’ words.

 

Lady Margaery, unbothered, swiftly changed the subject, “should we go to visit Princess Rhaenys, Your Royal Highness?”

 

With a nod, everyone followed the silver-haired princess to her nieces’ chamber where they would be dining together.

 

The Stark of Winterfell reflected on her time spent serving as lady-in-waiting to Princess Daenerys so far. The role had provided her with an opportunity to form friendships with people whom she would never have been able to have had she not been appointed. Sansa particularly liked Lady Ysilla Royce and Lady Talla Tarly. The former could be quite scandalous in her jokes, but she was always kind and the latter never failed to have a smile on her face. _The capital is exactly how the stories were told. Knights, princes, gowns and dances. As much as I love Winterfell, I feel at my prime here. Though I do miss everyone._

 

Her mother and father had arrived from the North yesterday and Sansa had been ecstatic to see them again. They had spent last night conversating with one another, their mother asking herself how she had been adjusting in her new role, if everyone was doing well in their lessons and if they were behaving. _I had wanted to inform mother of Arya’s disgraceful behaviour, but Robb had persuaded her otherwise. She gets away with too much._ After their reunion, Sansa’s father and Uncle Benjen had gone away to converse with one another and her mother had gone to meet her family. _Though, I do not see the point. Aunt Lysa is very……strange._ She felt a little guilty thinking it, but it was true. _She barely spoke to me and Arya when we went to see her, not to mention Cousin Robin. He was more interested in clinging to his mother than playing with Bran._

 

When they approached the eldest princess’ chamber, one of the maids went inside the room and announced them, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Daenerys.”

 

The arriving party entered, and Princess Daenerys’ ladies curtsied to Princess Rhaenys, with Rhaenys’ ladies curtsying to Daenerys.

 

Princess Rhaenys was dressed radiantly with an elegant floral dress, her hair was styled in a long open braid cascading down her shoulders topped with a ruby tiara headband, similar to the Princess Daenerys’.

 

Everyone went out to the balcony where there was a large table; arranged with delightful and exquisite looking foods. These included sister’s stew, lamprey pies, chicken, eggs and a variety of fruits and cheeses. Also present were a selection of desserts including biscuits, strawberry pie and, much to Sansa’s happiness, lemon cakes.

 

Taking their seats at the table, everyone began to eat, and conversation quickly began.

 

“I heard that your great great-uncle is the new Grand Maester, princess. Is it true?” The question had been asked by Myranda Royce and directed towards the elder princess.  
  
“Yes, His Grace sent a request to the conclave at the Citadel,” Princess Rhaenys replied, as she took a sip of mead.

 

“But isn’t he very old now?” Myranda blabbed bluntly.

 

Rhaenys narrowed her eyes at Myranda but it was Daenerys who responded, “he may be old, but it has done nothing to dull his senses. He is perfectly capable of carrying out his duties as evident by his continued presence at Castle Black.” That seemed to silence the Royce girl.

 

“How is Lord Hardyng, Myranda?” _I don’t know what Princess Rhaenys means by that but whatever it is it must be something, judging by the red face of Myranda._

“He is very handsome, isn’t he?” Ysilla Royce stated with a smirk, her words received with a look of annoyance from her cousin. The look, however, clearly was not enough to silence the lady, “every maiden’s dream; strong, brave and kind.” There were several nods at the table.

 

Sansa had seen the Vale lord for herself and could not help but be inclined to agree. _I certainly would not be opposed to marrying a man like him._

 

Roslin Frey contributed to the conversation next, “He’s practically the heir to the Vale, which obviously makes him all the more of an attractive match. Poor Lord Robin is so very sickly. It is no wonder his mother barely ever lets him out of her sights.” As if remembering her presence, Lady Roslin added, “no offense, Lady Sansa. I know he is your cousin and all.”

_I agree. He is very sickly but that isn’t the polite thing to say._ “It is alright, My Lady.”

 

“Though, everyone knows he has his sights set on Princess Alyssa.” _Does he? I did not know that._ Clearly, this was true as there was a collective murmur of agreement at the table.

 

“Well, what he wants is irrelevant. All he can do is ask the King and prey he gives his consent. Isn’t that right, Your Royal Highnesses?” The Rose of Highgarden enquired.

 

“Is that correct, Your Royal Highness? The King decides who you will marry?” Cerenna Lannister squeaked whilst dropping crumbs from the pie she was engulfing.

 

“Yes, that is correct. The King will have the final word about any marriages of his sisters or aunt. However, Queen Elia and the Queen Grandmother will certainly play a role and have a say in terms of who their daughters marry.” Lady Roslin stated matter-of-factly

Princess Rhaenys intervened, “My Lady speaks correctly. Anyway, enough about marriages.”

 

* * *

 

After the conclusion of the meal, the ladies-in-waiting were dismissed with the exception of Sansa and Roslin Frey, much to the chagrin of a select few of the others.

 

“Oh, Sansa, Alyssa wished to go to the city later today and wondered if you wished to go with her. She will be visiting some of the merchants to purchase some things. I believe Lady Arya will be going with her.” Sansa immediately perked up at Princess Daenerys’ words and the thought of buying new dresses. _Though, it is strange Arya is going. I suppose she **is** attached to Princess Alyssa at the hip._

“I would love to go,” Sansa said a little eagerly.

 

“I will let her know.”

 

“Mother has asked for us to provide a list of potential names for ladies-in-waiting that will serve Alyssa. She expressed her disapproval about the fact that it has been put off for so long.”

 

“Well, with all due respect, it was Princess Alyssa who was the one who declined ladies-in-waiting for this long. She was never shy of revealing her lack of requirement for any,” Lady Roslin inputted. _She must be on very good terms with the princesses for being familiar enough to say such a thing about a princess, she would have been reprimanded._

Sansa turned to look at Daenerys when she was addressed, “Do you think Arya would like to be a lady, Sansa? She is already very close to Alyssa and her cousin, so it would only be natural.”

 

The image of Arya in a pristine dress, curtseying and attending to Princess Alyssa formed in Sansa’s head. With great effort, she refrained from bursting with laughter. _The deserts of Dorne will transform into ice before Arya ever agrees to such a proposal._

 

Deciding to take the diplomatic route, “No, Your Royal Highness. I feel this is something my sister would prefer to avoid.”

 

“I’ll say. I once saw her ransacking the kitchens. Poor Cook Lanard and the kitchen servants almost jumped out of their skins.” Sansa went slightly red when her sister’s antics were raised. _She is so embarrassing!_

 

“Well, I guess we will have to think on it. Let me know of anyone you think will be suitable Rhaenys,” Princess Daenerys requested to which she received no response.

 

Looking up from the lemon cake she was nibbling, the auburn-haired girl glanced at Princess Rhaenys.

 

The black-haired princess’ attention was on a different balcony a small distance away – the King’s chamber. Standing there were a group of men, seemingly congregated to converse with one another. The group consisted of the King, his new Hand, her brother, the heir to the Iron Islands and Harrold Hardyng.

 

The Northern lady’s attention was drawn to the great-nephew of the Lord of the Vale. _He **is** very gallant and dashing. _

Sansa drew her attention away from the male party. Observing Lady Roslin staring at Princess Rhaenys with narrowed eyes. _Did the princess upset the lady somehow?_ Princess Daenerys’ sight was also fixated upon the other balcony. However, she shook her head and quickly looked away.

 

“I see that the King has been moved to his new chambers. Mother was adamant about this,” Princess Daenerys contributed to the group. Lady Roslin turned to the princess and conversation once again resumed.

 

Returning her gaze to the other group, Sansa watched as the men began leaving the balcony. The last to leave was her brother, Robb. He smiled and bowed his head to the watching black-haired princess. _At least one of my siblings is respectful and courteous. He does not embarrass me._

With a firm nod of approval, Sansa Stark reattuned back into the conversation.

 

* * *

 

After the conclusion of the meal, Sansa swiftly dismissed herself and went to her chamber to prepare for the outing with Princess Alyssa and Arya. Now ready, she was eagerly waiting for her royal cousin’s arrival in her father and mother’s chamber.

 

“It is fine mother. There will be Targaryen guards with us and Ser Oswell will be present,” Arya tried to reason.

 

“I still think we should send extra guards with them as a precaution. Better still, we will come with you,” Lady Catelyn insisted.

 

Sansa had blocked the conversation between her mother and Arya out. She was far too excited to be worrying about guards. _Shopping in the capital. Imagine all the merchants, shops and stalls available. All the clothes from faraway lands, jewellery and foods._

Her father held her mother’s hand reassuringly and attempted to calm her, “It is fine Cat. The princess will have a Kingsguard and royal guards with her. The girls will be well protected. This is an opportunity for the girls to bond with their cousin whom they have never seen until arriving here. Allow them this. I will send Jory and seven of our own household guards with them if that will put your mind at ease.”

 

Catelyn Stark was biting her lip nervously before sighing, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. Fine.” His father kissed her temple before walking towards a chest. Putting his hand inside and pulling something out, he walked towards her. Her lord father extended his hand where there was a pouch and judging by the clinging noise, Sansa assumed it was a pouch full of coins.

 

“Here you go. To spend at the market. Share it with your sister too,” her father stated kindly. She smiled and took the offering.

 

“Why didn’t you give the coins to me? I would look after it better than Sansa. She’ll probably spend it all on clothes anyway,” Arya said rudely. Sansa shot her a dirty look.

 

“Your sister will share the coins with you evenly, Arya. Do not worry,” their mother tried being the peacemaker.

 

Arya’s next comment earned her narrowed eyes from Sansa, “It is fine. Sansa can hold the coins, it will help console her over the fact that Alyssa likes me better than her.”

 

Lady Stark was employing her best methods in order to play peacemaker, “Arya! I am sure the princess likes you both equally.”

 

“She just pities you. Little urchin that you are,” Sansa remarked nastily.

 

“Enough! Another word from either of you and neither of you will be going,” their father said in a tone that implied he meant every word. Both girls immediately silenced themselves, not daring to risk their day out.

 

Thankfully for both the girls, the knock at the door and the entry of Jory broke the new-found tension within the room.

 

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Alyssa, Milord,” Jory announced.

 

Sansa witnessed her father visibly tense slightly. Her mother whispered in his ear, but Sansa heard what was said, “it will be fine. This is the first time she is meeting you too and I am sure she is equally as nervous.” Her lady mother squeezed her lord father’s hand in reassurance. Sansa sighed. _I wish to have a marriage like that one day._

Still looking at her father’s face, she observed his eyes widen and him taking a deep breath before breaking into a wide smile. Sansa turned to see the cause of her father’s emotions to find her royal cousin entering. She was dressed modestly in a light grey and black dress; a perfect combination of her Stark and Targaryen heritage.

 

Sansa stood, curtsying along with her mother and sister whilst her father bowed.

 

The princess was wringing her hands before she spoke, “it is an honour to meet you, My Lord.”

 

Lord Stark stared at his niece, appearing to be assessing everything there was about her. Sansa can recall seeing her father like this only ever once before. _When Jon arrived in Winterfell all those years ago._

 

“You have your mother’s beauty….and her wildness from what I hear.”

 

Princess Alyssa released a breathy laugh. Instinctively, everyone seemed to know not to speak and allow this moment between uncle and niece. Lady Catelyn stood there smiling and Sansa was aware she herself was wearing a giant grin which could compete with her mother’s.

 

The two slowly walked towards one another, as if worried the other would vanish.

 

Sansa was not oblivious and unaware as everyone thought she was. Contrary to belief, she was an expert at reading certain emotions, especially if she had spent a considerable amount of time with the individuals and was aware of the nature of their character. At this very moment, she was fairly confident in what her father was thinking. _She reminds him of Aunt Lyanna._ Though Jon was the one who had his mother’s colouring, his personality and character was said to be like his father. Alyssa was the reverse.

 

“Jon has told me a lot about yourself. He and father held great respect for you.” Princess Alyssa examined the room and inclined her head at her mother, who stood a little away so as to let her father and cousin have a moment, Arya was rudely gawping. _She possesses no subtlety whatsoever. At least I am trying to appear as though I am not listening._

 

“Thank you, princess,” her father stated.

 

Her cousin took a shaky breath to calm herself down before continuing, “you can call me Alyssa, Lord Stark.”

 

Ned Stark was a man whose emotions many found difficult to read. So, Sansa prided herself on picking up on the small things which indicated to her how her father was feeling. She noticed the way in which his shoulders and back relaxed as the atmosphere between himself and his niece grew more comfortable. “Very well. However, only on the condition you call me uncle.”

 

Alyssa hesitated before replying, “yes.” The princess swallowed …...“uncle.”

 

The three Stark women beamed at the words and interaction exchanged between their loved ones, knowing it must have been difficult for the two to acquaint themselves with one another despite her father being one of the first to hold her cousin in his arms when she was born.

_The pack grows._

 

* * *

 

After the introductions were complete, the two Stark girls, the Targaryen princess and their retinue descended into the city from Aegon’s High Hill. Sansa’s friend Jeyne Poole had been invited by Alyssa to come along but she had been feeling unwell so remained in the Red Keep to recover.

 

As instructed by her royal cousin, she had dressed modestly so as to prevent unwanted attention being drawn to them. _Though the guards are enough beckons for that._ Alyssa had adorned the hood of her cloak so as to conceal her prominent hair. Jory and the Stark guards were clothed in simple attire whilst Ser Oswell, who was present to guard the princess, along with a handful of Targaryen household guards, had also swapped their armours for clothing to make them less identifiable.

Sansa drank in the sight of, what seemed to be, an infinite amount of clothing shops and stalls. Every type of clothing one could think of was exhibited and available for purchase. Silks and linen from Qarth, Slaver’s Bay and Lys. All the merchants were shouting for potential buyers to come to their stalls; declaring their prices to be the best or their fabrics to be the highest of standard. Around the stalls there were many people bustling about, the majority being highborn. _They are likely the only ones who can afford some of these products._

 

The auburn girl, after searching for products from the other Essosi cities turned to the princess, “Why are there only products from Lys and not the other Free Cities?”

 

The princess, who had approached a vendor who was selling exotic looking jewellery and was examining an odd-looking ring with the most peculiar gemstone Sansa had seen, replied without looking up. “Well, the Free Cities and the Seven Kingdoms are not on the ‘greatest’ of terms at the moment. There are bound to be merchandise from the cities somewhere, but you have to really look for it.” The Stark lady was about to ask the reasoning behind the bad relationship when a woman behind the stall advanced towards Alyssa and Sansa. As she grew closer, Sansa’s anxiety rose and the feeling of foreboding.

 

“Perhaps we should try another stall.” The princess looked at her and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

 

“Nothing will happen. Not while Ser Oswell is here. Is that not right Ser?” The princess directed towards the Kingsguard who wore an expression that could only be described as uninterested as one could be. Sansa looked between the protector of the princess and her sister. Both Oswell and Arya held the same expressions of wanting to be anywhere but shopping for jewels. _It is actually quite frightening how the two resemble one another in exhibiting the same emotion._

 

“Of course. Though if the situation arises that I will have to either save yourself or the lady then alas the lady may have to receive a few scratches and bruises before I can save her too.” The Kingsguard looked deadly serious when he issued his words. Sansa knew not if it was a dark quip or a fact. _That is hardly how a knight would behave in one of my stories._ Arya let out a rude laugh at the knight’s words. _She **would** find unknightly behaviour amusing. _Princess Alyssa shot Ser Oswell an irritated look which the knight remained indifferent too. Ser Oswell turned to Arya, who was overtly enjoying the exchange, “that would include you to, Little Lady.” That declaration wiped the smirk off her sister’s face.

 

The youngest Stark daughter attempted to rise to her fullest height which was still a pathetic attempt compared to the tall men, even if they did not currently wear their armour. “Do not worry, I don’t need protecting. I can look after myself.”

 

“I’m not worried,” was the simple response to Arya’s rebuttal which earned Ser Oswell a look of ire. _I am certain now. The two are definitely more alike than different. Both are so rude._

 

Jory stepped forward to reassure his Stark charges, “Do not heed the Ser’s words, Miladies. I and my men are here to protect you.” Jory looked upon Oswell with scorn which the Kingsguard returned with an amused smile.

 

All speech came to an end when the female merchant stopped in front of the party. At the woman’s arrival, the Kingsguard and household guards stepped a small distance away so as to provide some space. “This here is a rare gemstone only found from the Shadow Lands. Much sought after, it can change its colour depending on the light. Very popular in the Yi-Tish Empire.” _The Shadow Lands? Septa Mordane had said that was a dangerous and barbaric land with darkness._ Sansa’s feeling of foreboding was not being eased. “This would be perfect for you, Your Royal Highness.” The princess and Stark girls exchanged looks with one another and Sansa felt Alyssa place her hand on the hip of her cloak. She looked from the corner of her eyes and noticed the handle of a dagger poking out. _I had not even noticed that._ “Do not fret. Your identity will remain hidden with me, princess. I am very apt at keeping secrets.”

 

“Big words from a woman who hides her face behind a mask,” Arya blurted out. Sansa did not even bother reprimanding her sister, due to the slight fear within her. _Or is it because I secretly agree with her?_ The auburn-haired girl did not know.

 

The masked woman, whose eyes were still visible, turned to Arya’s direction. Sansa would forever swear the woman’s eyes gleamed. “This is the custom of my culture.” The eldest female Stark looked around her at the other stalls, traders and buyers and saw none look their way. Not even a slight glance in the direction of the masked woman’s shop.

 

Arya recoiled slightly at the woman’s piercing gaze, but it was her royal cousin who found the courage to speak. “Where is it you are from, My Lady?” The woman’s eyes returned to Alyssa.

 

The sounds and talk from the crowd seemed to drown out when the masked woman opened her mouth. “Take the ring. It will prove crucial in the times to come. For you will discover secrets and have a major role to play in the future, princess. As will the violet-eyed one and the black-haired one. Your family’s empire will grow greatly in the coming years, under the new regime - **at a price.** ” Sansa felt her heart quicken. She looked to her right and saw her sister unusually quiet, staring at the woman. The princess’s reaction was most strange. For she merely stood there – frozen. Her expression blank but simply looking at the woman, unblinking. However, it seemed the woman was not finished, and this time Sansa was certain the woman was not a natural being when her eyes sparkled. “Princess, **they  **are **both  **returning. Those from whom your family’s dynasty rose and stand here today and those from whom your family’s dynasty **may  **collapse. The world **will  **change for it.”

 

Everyone flinched when screaming began behind them. The three girls whipped around to find men viciously brawling. The household guards had advanced to intercede and break the fight. However, this only caused further problems for the men were not in their armour and the usual garb they wore made others think they were joining the fight. The situation soon intensified when the quantity of men fighting increased. Ser Oswell drew his sword and moved towards the princess and the Starks. Unfortunately, this drew the attention of some nearby highborn spectators who had obviously come to the incorrect conclusion that Ser Oswell was about to assault three unarmed innocent girls; none recognising the identity of the girls or the Kingsguard.

 

“Shame on you! Trying to attack these girls,” the men were all shouting, trying to restrain the Kingsguard who was in the predicament of attempting to overpower these men without harming them. Jory also joined Ser Oswell, aiding him.

 

That was when Sansa felt a hand withdraw from her cloak and the owner of said hand begin to sprint away – with the pouch of coins her father had given her. “Thief!” She screamed. Alas, it was pointless as Sansa’s cry for help was lost in the noise of the crowds fighting. That was until Sansa saw a blur run past her, chasing the thief.

 

Princess Alyssa’s voice made panic settle in the elder Stark, “Arya! Stop!” Her cousin withdrew her dagger and followed after the younger Stark.

 

“Wait!” Seeing the men staring at her and the crowds fighting, Sansa let out a frustrated sigh, rolled her eyes, and decided to follow after Arya and Alyssa. Turning to look back one last time, the last thing she saw: A Kingsguard and the Captain of the Stark household guard restraining those trying to restrain them; Targaryen and Stark guards breaking up the fighting of the crowd and an unmanned stall, absent of any masked-women.

 

* * *

 

Sansa managed to keep her family in her line of sight. She recognised that she needed to stay with Alyssa or she would be lost in one of the biggest cities in the realm. The Stark girl was beginning to get out of breath when she looked at her surroundings. _I am certainly no longer in the wealthy part of the capital._ The air was incensed with the smell of stables, pigs and something that Sansa could not place but had smelt it on Theon. There was an abundant number of alleyways that twisted into more alleyways and the houses were all slanted as if prone to fall upon one another any moment now.

 

The Stark girl followed her cousin into one of these alleyways, which was empty. However, her journey ceased when a man stepped in front of her from behind a doorway. _Vile is the only word to describe him._ The man held no emotion as he walked towards Sansa. She turned to look behind her to only find two other men walking towards her from the rear. Sansa could see her cousin disappear from view on the other side of the alleyway. The feeling of bile settled within her. She knew the story of Danny Flint and how her tale came to a tragic end.

 

“Please. My father will give you anything you desire.” The three men only laughed.

 

“We have no interest in anything your ‘father’ has to offer in the future. We only look at the present.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Sansa Stark of Winterfell released a piercing scream for help.

 

“Ain’t no-one coming to help you girl.” The lady of Winterfell closed her eyes and prayed to the old gods and the new. Her breathing quickened. She felt herself freeze. Her body betraying her, staying rooted to the spot. _Please. Please. Please. Please._

 

It was only a cry of agony that broke her out of her thoughts and when she opened her eyes she found a blade etched deeply in the groin of the man in front of her, who was now kneeled out on the floor. Standing behind him was a beautiful young girl with long black hair tied behind her head. She had striking grey eyes and an olive complexion. Her thin stature made her agile as evident from the graceful way in which she moved. Pulling the blade out of the now dead man, the girl threw it in Sansa’s direction. The Stark widened her eyes in fear only for the weapon to fly past her and land in the throat of one of the men behind her. He grabbed his throat with both hands, trying to speak all the while as blood splattered on the ground. To no avail, the man joined his deceased comrade. The last man, witnessing the fate of his friends decided to think twice and turned to run; only to scream in pain when he was blocked from running by Princess Alyssa who was accompanied by Arya, the former’s dagger finding a place in the man’s heart. The princess retrieved her weapon, wiping the blood on the dead man’s clothes.

 

With heavy breathing her cousin addressed her, “are you all right, Sansa?” She responded with only a nod. Too overwhelmed to speak.

 

“Well, this is one way to reunite, Your Royal Highness.”

 

Alyssa looked up from replacing the dagger back on her person and widened her eyes at Sansa’s rescuer. It was evident for all that the two were familiar with each other.

 

“No-one could ever accuse us of being conventional, at least,” Alyssa mocked which gained a laugh from the girl. _How can they both jest after what has just happened?_

“Sansa; Arya, may I introduce the daughter of Lady Ashara – Lyra Sand. Lyra, these are my northern cousins – Sansa and Arya Stark.”

 

Lyra’s forehead crinkled slightly but she smiled and inclined her head to the two northern girls. “Pleasure to meet you. Lady **_Starks_** _.”_

* * *

 

**The Dwarf of Casterly Rock**

 

The first time he was entering King’s Landing and the city had changed from what he had read in his books. _From a shit-smelling overcrowded city to a shit-smelling clattered city._

The Lannister lord knew that when Rhaegar Targaryen ascended the throne one of his first decisions as King was a major redevelopment of the capital city. The inhabitants and buildings of King’s Landing were essentially all piled upon one another. In order to rectify this the late King had ordered the demolition of the wall surrounding the capital and the construction of a new wall which extended the city’s borders by a third of its current size, allowing the opportunity to accommodate the population and space the city out. _Seventeen_   _years in the making and the city had much improved._ Not all the walls had been torn down. Only two and half sections of the walls had been removed; the side with the Old Gate, Gate of the Gods and the Dragons Gate entrances; the side with the Lion and King’s Gates and a small section of the side with the Iron Gate which led from Rosby Road. The remaining other sides had no need to be demolished as they were already at the edge of the Blackwater and the harbour. The new walls took the entirety of the late dragon king’s reign to construct as ramparts and walkways had been added allowing for the easier access of men to attack, if ever the case arose. They were thicker than the older ones with watchtowers built at various intervals across the walls. The older walls that were left intact had been maintained and renovated, making them thicker too, matching the new walls. The city still had seven entrances, with the torn down gates rebuilt in the new walls. The walls were also installed with defensive war engines, such as catapults.

 

It was common knowledge that shanty towns were prominent outside the walls of the city, but this no longer seemed to be the case. For no more were the shanty towns but empty houses that were almost finished being dismantled, removed and cleared. _Where are the people who resided there I wonder?_

 

As Tyrion advanced into the city he observed the many new roads and houses that had been built. Many of the smallfolk now residing in these new residences whilst the new roads, paths and lanes were all covered and layered in cobblestone. _Ah, asked and answered. My, the late King had been busy._

 

There was a large building that appeared to be very active with movement. There were women all wearing the same clothing with the same red surcoats and black headdresses. _The colours of House Targaryen._ There were men, who were evidently guards from the garb they wore which consisted of the same Targaryen armour that the household guards wore. They were joined by men of the City Watch. A lot of the smallfolk were gathered about and when some emerged from the building, Tyrion realised what the building was. _Queen Rhaella’s food kitchen._ The function of the kitchen being to provide sustenance to those who deeply required it. _The women in Targaryen colours must be the people who run it whilst the guards and members of the City Watch are deployed to keep the peace. Benevolent move. Or strategic, depending on who you ask._

 

Tyrion recalled in a letter he had received from his brother many years ago about the increase and change in which House Targaryen had begun to combat the poverty within the city. These included Queen Elia and the royal princesses all being patronesses of orphanages and widows and children of soldiers being provided with payments to aid them financially until they could support themselves. _King’s Landing slowly becoming a seat fit as the royal capital of a now developing empire._

 

The dwarf of Casterly Rock was still marvelling at the fact that he was no longer in the Westerlands and had been permitted to leave. _That too at the invitation of father._ Tyrion had only ever seen Casterly Rock since he was born. The day his sister got married and became the second Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was one of the greatest days for the youngest Lannister. _The bitch of the west had left, and the good news had continued. For a few years later, his father had been named Master of Coin._

 

Tyrion had not been naive enough to believe he would be leaving with his father. _Unknowingly, King Rhaegar had extracted two banes from my life._

 

However, his father did not leave without one last move to torment and humiliate Tyrion. _For he had not left Casterly Rock in my care, his own heir, but had assigned my aunt Genna as regent to rule the Westerlands._ Tyrion did not dislike his aunt, quite the opposite actually for she was one of the few people in the world who treated him with a degree of respect. The only other people who regarded Tyrion as human were his uncles Kevan, Gerion and Tygett. The middle had, however, perished when he embarked upon his disastrous venture to Valyria. Then there was, of course, his brother Jaime. The little lord of Lannister was unsure of his brother. Jaime had joined the Kingsguard at the age of sixteen and because Tyrion had not seen him since, the relationship with his brother was distant. Nevertheless, Jaime often took the time to send letters to Tyrion and it was based upon the foundations of letters that the two brothers had forged a kinship with one another.

 

The reason as to why he was here remained a mystery to him. _Somehow, I doubt it is because father missed me. Likely he needs something only I can give, or he would gladly ask someone else for help. Or he just summoned me to finally kill me._

 

As expected, he had received stares and remarks upon his ascent towards the Red Keep. _Let them sneer. For the opinions of unknown men have little impact._ A part of Tyrion knew the people were not just judging him but his companion who had been sent by his father to escort him too. Normally, the man’s post would be by his nephew’s side, Prince Daeron.

 

His prediction was true when he rode into the palace and not one of his family members were present to welcome and greet him. Even though Tyrion predicted this; the same unwelcome familiar feeling of poignancy rose but he followed the usual pattern he had adopted. _Repress and ignore._

Once the horses stopped, the usual humiliating process occurred where Tyrion would require assistance in order to unsaddle himself from his horse. Once done, the man who had helped him turned and addressed him.

 

The tall muscled man had sharp cheekbones and thick eyebrows – on one side. The other was a charred burnt ruin, marking the man for life, travelling all the way down to his throat. “We’ve arrived at the capital, little lord.”

 

“Thank you, hound. For a moment there I got confused and thought we had finally arrived at Old Valyria,” Tyrion replied dryly. He simultaneously assessed the exterior of the Targaryen castle. The battlements, fortifications, towers and banners. He was proud that he could put a name to every part of the castle he saw.

 

“Eat shit dwarf.” This merely caused the Lannister lord to smile. On the journey, the two had bonded, if one could call it that. Both outcasts, both despised by society for disfigurements and both loathed members of their families. _The Imp and the Hound. There’s one for the tales._

 

Tyrion saw movement next to him and looked at the Hound give a slight bow to an approaching figure. Turning to look at the newest arrival, he immediately recognised the identity of the individual. She was accompanied by four servants, shadowing her footsteps. Tyrion inclined his head towards the female.

 

“My Lady,” he greeted. The woman lived up to the stories of her beauty. Her mannerisms were all graceful and eloquent. Her bright amethyst eyes, olive complexion and long shiny flowing black locks which were tied behind her. The lady was adorning a yellow Dornish style dress and on top of her head was a silver chained headpiece with a diamond at the centre.

 

Lady Ashara nodded her head at the hound and turned to face Tyrion. “Lord Tyrion. I welcome you to the capital on behalf of the royal family.” _But they did not bother welcoming me themselves. Then again, my own family snubbed me so why would the royals arrive to welcome a second-born dwarf?_ “Alas, they are indisposed at the moment seeing to the other new arrivals.”

 

“Who has arrived, My Lady?” _Must be someone of importance for the royals to prioritise them over me._ Swallowing the laughter at his own jape he adopted a look of neutrality.

 

“I am sure you will find out imminently.” Turning to the Hound, “you may retire if you wish, Sandor.” _First name basis?_ The Hound nodded and departed. _Great, he was not the most brilliant of company but at least I was not completely alone in a city I have never entered before._ “Follow me, My Lord.” Placing the questions, he had to one side of his mind for the moment, the lion of Casterly Rock followed the Chief Treasurer.

 

Entering the palace, Tyrion expected to see more courtiers but apart from the guards and servants scuttling about, there were very few nobles walking around. After a while, they had finally arrived at the assumed destination. _The Throne Room._

Footsteps were heard behind him and he and Lady Ashara turned to find approaching individuals who had presumably also appeared here to enter the throne room. _Two wandering wolves._

The two were in the midst of an animated discussion which Tyrion only heard portions of.

 

“….all over a purse of coin.”

 

“….most important is that they are all safe.”

 

The two ceased conversing when they spotted that they were not alone. The older of the two failed to notice the Dwarf of Casterly Rock and maintained his slightly widened gaze upon his female escort. The Dornish lady, for her part, adopted a blank expression, void of revealing any emotion. _For the untrained eye._ Tyrion noticed the slight clench of her hand before it quickly regressed back to its previous form. _Not just because I am eye level with her hand._ Lady Ashara then folded her hands and placed them on her lower stomach. She inclined her head at the Warden of the North and his brother. “Lord Stark; Lord Benjen.”

 

When Ned Stark did not respond Benjen Stark, who up to that point had chosen to look anywhere but at his brother or the lady, was the one to reply and he, for one, noticed the small man standing next to the Dornish lady, “My Lady; My Lord. Pleasure to meet you,” the latter statement directed towards Tyrion.

 

Ned Stark finally seemed to return to himself for he also greeted the two, “My Lady, you look well. My Lord.” At first, Tyrion only responded by staring at Lord Stark and smirking. Not saying a word until Lord Stark looked away uncomfortably, facing the doors, which only increased Tyrion’s mirth.

 

“Lord Stark; Lord Benjen, I am fortunate to meet the King’s northern uncles. Particularly the man who oversaw and was responsible for the reconstruction of Summerhall. I would much like to hear the stories you have about that place and how the process in which you went about to get the palace to its current state.”

 

Benjen Stark forced a smile and nodded his head, “I would be much obliged, My Lord.”

 

“My Lady, I would like to meet your daughter, so I can extend my gratitude to her for what she did. She left yesterday before I arrived, so I was unable to do so.” _These two Starks definitely have issue with me or is it all Lannisters they have a problem with?_

 

Lady Ashara shook her head, “no need. I will pass them on to her. I am just glad Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are well.” Ned Stark was about to reply but the Dornish lady took that as the end of the conversation and faced the guards at the doors who bowed their heads to her. She nodded at them to indicate for the doors to be opened. _Interesting. Lady Ashara and the Starks have history – noted._

 

* * *

 

As assured by Ashara Dayne, Tyrion did discover the cause of the congregation in the Great Hall. _Introductions._ He stood to the right of the chamber, wanting to be near to the dragon skulls. Unfortunately, due to the crowd he was unable to gain a good view of the skeletons and had to settle for admiring them from a distance, telling himself that he would examine them later when there was no court being held.

The new King and the new Hand of the King were present. The former was sat upon a temporary throne in front of the Iron Throne and the latter stood next to him.

 

Tyrion appraised the two Targaryens. Both shared the same eye colour and several features such as the same nose. However, that was where the similarities came to an end. Though the two also had long hair which they had tied, the King in a bun and the hand in a tail, the colours were as different as night and day. Jaehaerys had black hair, a mark of his mother, whilst his uncle inherited the traditional Targaryen silver. _Obviously, he is hardly going to have chestnut hair with a brother and sister for parents._ The King was more muscular and wore a neatly trimmed beard whilst the Hand had a lithe body type and was clean-shaven.

 

The Lannister surveyed the Kingsguard on duty but identified that his brother was not one of the ones present. _So much for good relations._ He stood there trying to ignore the pain in his legs that would appear when he walked and stood for a large amount of time, hoping that court would begin soon.

“Strange, I half expected to find you atop the back of the Dread by now,” a man’s mocking voice interrupted his thoughts.

 

Spinning to see who the voice belonged to, the Lannister lord, at once, recognised the individual. _Not the least because of his Kingsguard armour._ The golden hair and green eyes were a distinguishable factor. Tyrion was confident in stating that he was an expert at hiding his true feelings but in this case, he failed. _He remembered my fascination with dragons from my letters._

 

“How did you know who I was?” Later on, he would realise how ridiculous it was for him to ask such a thing. _Please be different from the rest of them._

 

Jaime’s eyes roved Tyrion’s form, an eyebrow raising, followed by a chuckling. “Yes, it was difficult to establish from the many men present which my brother was.”

_‘ **My** brother.’ _Tyrion had spent his entire life being laughed at in derision and ridicule. Due to this he was able to notice the scornful laughing of people. In this event, the youngest of the Lannisters was overwhelmed with delectation when he realised none of this mockery was layered in his brother’s laugh. He smiled and broke into laughter of his own; joining his brother. The atmosphere becoming alleviated and comfortableness entering and settling in.

 

Once the two had calmed down, ignoring the stares they were receiving from the people in their close proximity, Tyrion continued the exchange. “Should you not be on duty defending the royals?”

 

His brother shook his head, “I have been relieved for the day. I should be going to the White Sword Tower for respite but alas tis not every day one gets to become acquainted with their brother in person. I deemed this more important, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Tyrion beamed, “why is everyone here? I somehow doubt the nobility of the city are all gathered to see me introduced to the King.”

 

“Unfortunately, not. You are one of many new arrivals. A lot of lords and ladies have come to the capital for the impending coronation. I would wager that the majority are here to see House Greyjoy and the magisters and Viceroy of Lys.”

 

Tyrion could not help but snort at the image that had transformed in his mind. When Jaime looked at him he responded, “apologies. I just found the idea of Balon Greyjoy bowing to the King hilarious.”

 

“Well, we should be used to it. The squid bent the knee and was crippled by King Rhaegar.”

 

Tyrion silently nodded. Neither of the two Lannisters had any love or respect for House Greyjoy. For years the Ironborn had raided and reeved the shores of Westeros, including the Westerlands. The icing on the lemon cake was the Greyjoy Rebellion where they burnt the Lannister fleet and attacked Lannisport. _I may have no love for members of my family, but I do not want to see our house fall._

Remembering the encounter from outside, Tyrion thought his brother may know something, “what happened with the Stark daughters?”

 

“Oh, you heard about that? They, along with the Princess Alyssa, were attacked by some men after they were separated from the guards. Thankfully, the princess is not as helpless as other maidens and was able to defend herself and her cousins. The Chief Treasurer’s daughter arrived and helped to rescue the Stark girls. Fiery one, that girl. She was taught by the Sword of the Morning himself.”

 

Tyrion had further enquiries but was prevented from investigating further when Prince Viserys stepped forward which led to silence to spread throughout the hall. After providing the standard greetings of welcome to the people, the new arrivals were called forward one by one. Those called were mainly men except for the few ladies who were in power in their respective castles. The other ladies were all in the gallery.

 

Tyrion looked up to see which ladies were present. There were familiar faces that included his cousin Cerenna Lannister and Joanna Swyft, the latter of whom was a daughter of a Westerlander house and the chief lady-in-waiting to his sister. “Who are the women in the gallery? I recognise Cerenna and Joanna Swyft. I believe some of the ladies standing next to her are from other Westerlander houses, but I don’t know any of the others.”

 

“Someone you have taken to a liking, little brother?” Tyrion rolled his eyes but could not help but be internally elated. His brother was now addressing him as one of his own kin and was casually japing with him. _I have never experienced this with another Lannister._ “I’ll point out the ones that actually **matter**. Next to Cerenna is Myranda Royce and next to Joanna Swyft and Cersei’s other ladies are the Tyrells. Mina Tyrell, Queen Elia’s chief lady-in-waiting; Margaery Tyrell, one of Princess Daenerys’ ladies and Lady Olenna, whom I doubt needs an introduction.” _A Tyrell in service to a Martell. The Suns must be loving that._ It was the latter who had attracted Tyrion’s attention. The matriarch of the Tyrells was furiously whispering in her daughter’s ear whilst simultaneously eyeing every single being in the room. _Who needs multiple spies when one of her would prove wonders._ As if hearing his thoughts, the Queen of Thorns snapped her gaze towards Tyrion which caused him to cringe but never to break eye contact with her. The Dwarf of Casterly Rock upheld his stare with the sharp-tongued Rose of Highgarden. Neither desiring to be the first to look away. He was a little surprised at her unwaveringness to submit. Tyrion’s stare was known to make many lords and ladies uncomfortable. _Even Aunt Genna would reprimand him whenever he did so, citing his stare to be on par with that of his father._ Lady Olenna then finished with an unsettling smile, the Lannister noticing the loss of her teeth.

 

The return of his brother’s voice brought Tyrion away from his staring match, “I never thought old partially deaf women with sour breath were what gets your loins stirring but I will not judge.”

 

Smirking, Tyrion returned the quip, “ah brother, has no-one told you it is the older women who are the more experienced ones?”

 

Jaime formed a look of disgust. “I would be grateful if you would allow me to keep my meal inside me, thank you.”

 

For a while, Jaime pointed out different members of the nobility and all the houses present. The two passing judgement on many of them. Old Jon Arryn, his sour wife Lysa Tully and, next to them, a man with a goatee. Edmure Tully and the Red Keep’s Master-at-arms, Brynden ‘the Blackfish’ Tully. Prince Doran Martell sitting in a wheeled chair, flocked by his children and brother; his daughter and heiress Arianne Martell, his second-born Quentyn Martell, his brother Oberyn Martell and multiple girls who Jaime said were the Viper’s brood of bastards. Tyrells, Tarlys, Yronwoods, Pipers, Mormonts, Manderlys, Boltons, Celtigars, Florents, Estermonts, Drumms and Harlaws. There were houses from all across the Seven Kingdoms. Affluent houses from Lys and the Stepstones had shown up too.

 

“Renly of House Baratheon, Lord of Grey Gallows, and Ser Loras of House Tyrell.” The two men moved from the crowd and stepped forward, bowing to the King and the Hand.

 

“Which do you think is walking strangely?” Jaime snorted.

 

Tyrion swallowed his laugh. It was evident what his brother was referring to. _Even at Casterly Rock, rumours were in myriad. There must be a lot of stabbing at Grey Gallows._

 

The next group of people contained a name that caused both the Lannister brothers to quieten.

 

“Lord Kevan Lannister, Viceroy of Lys.” Their uncle stepped forward with a contingent of magisters. They all bowed to the King and bowed their heads to Prince Viserys. King Jaehaerys silently nodded his head at the group who then moved to one side.

 

“Our uncle has done well for himself. He essentially has secondary power over Lys after the King and the Hand. Though I can see why the late King chose him, he is smart and knows how to maintain control and stability which is what Lys needs.” _Not to mention father must be contended._

 

“He is not the only one who has done well for himself.” Jaime pointed at one of the Lysene magisters who had a bony face and long black hair. “That is Khorane Sathmantes. Grim fucker. But he is the most prominent out of the magisters and his family are of an old noble Lysene family. Rumour has it the King is going to elevate one of the Lysene nobles to a higher position in an attempt to bring Lys more into the fold and further unite it with the rest of the realm. My money is on him.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“He used to be one of Salladhor Saan’s men. Now the pirate is Lord Paramount of the Stepstones and is doing an effective job of keeping control there meaning he is capable, much to the dismay of many who, no doubt, wanted him to fail. Sathmantes was one of Saan’s top men so he has to be good at something. Moreover, Saan would be happy which is beneficial for the Crown.”

 

Tyrion could not fault that logic. Aegon the Conqueror after the Conquest had taken measures in order to bind the kingdoms together, so it was only logical for his descendent to do the same with Lys and the Stepstones. Picking a noble of Lys over a Lysene commoner was also a smart option. _The King cannot be too radical with his choice to elevate someone; his father had already named a pirate as a Lord Paramount and a bastard as Viceroy of the Iron Islands._

Speaking of the latter, the muttering within the room evaporated when the next names were called out.

 

“Balon of House Greyjoy, Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands and Lord Reaper of Pyke; Victarion of House Greyjoy, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet; Lady Asha of House Greyjoy and Aurane Velaryon, Viceroy of the Iron Islands.”

 

Tyrion blinked in surprise, “he was legitimised? and why is the Greyjoy girl with her father. I thought she was a ward in Dorne?”

 

Jaime nodded in affirmation. “Yes, King Rhaegar legitimised him. I presume so the Iron Islanders would not feel so affronted obeying the orders of a bastard. Strange. Men who have no morals, claim countless women as salt wives and have no qualms about killing have an issue with bastards. One of the conditions is he cannot claim Driftmark and had to publicly give up any claims on lordship over the island.” Jaime laughed before continuing, “funny because people still call him Waters, but he doesn’t give a shit. I suppose he has power, so he’s joyful. I also guarantee that Waters dragged the Greyjoys here or else they would never leave their shit forsaken rocks. As for the Greyjoy girl. She arrived with the Dornish retinue but is being presented today with her family.”

 

The Viceroy of the Iron Islands was the first to stand in front of the two royals. Confidently bowing with an all too self-satisfied smile. Tyrion could not help but note the similarity between the man to the Hand. _Valyrians are unique to the world but similar to one another._

The three Greyjoys all stepped forward and everyone was deadly silent. A child who was simple could see the expressions the Greyjoys wore. _They would rather the dead dragon skeletons swallow them than be here._ No doubt, they view it as an act of humiliation. _Though their people should be familiar with the feeling by now._

King Jaehaerys focussed upon Balon Greyjoy. Never breaking eye contact. Never blinking. _Almost as if he were daring the Iron Islander to refuse to submit._ The Hand of the King stood rigidly straight, narrowing his eyes on the Lord of Pyke and his family.

 

Asha Greyjoy was nothing like a lady. Brown tunic; black breeches; studded belt and leather boots, the daughter of the Lord of the Iron Islands took a different approach than her father and chose to display a wicked smile – but she still did not bow. _Seems as if her back is as stiff as her sire’s._

Victarion Greyjoy looked similar to his brother in that they both possessed long hair; with flecks of grey in the case of the former; and mainly grey for the latter. Though his stature was broader, he had adopted the same hard face as his brother. _And the same unbending back._

Tyrion Lannister was then tempted to look outside to see if the dragons were reborn and had returned for Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands and Lord Reaper of Pyke, bent the knee to King Jaehaerys Targaryen. He bowed which was followed suit by his daughter and brother. _The squids submitted to the dragons – once more._

 

The mumbles, whispering and muttering ascended and amongst the noise, the Dwarf of Casterly Rock looked at the scene in front of him and then looked to the right at what he had gained - his older brother. _Tis a day of wonderful miracles._ The pain in his legs all but forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the characters (except Alyssa) are in canon, even the minor characters. I normally dislike OCs but Alyssa was needed here but she will not take away from the main characters. 
> 
> I'm going to be a troll and say don't jump to conclusions about Lyra's father. I think it's safe to say it's between Brandon and Ned but Ned could still be awkward around Ashara if he is aware of something that potentially occurred between her and his brother. Or maybe the father is Benjen? (Kidding about the last part).
> 
> King's Landing is a pretty crap city in canon and this is something I want to change. Of course, this would realistically be a long process which is why it begun at the beginning of Rhaegar's reign. I hope King's Landing will one day look like medieval Constantinople or ancient Rome. 
> 
> I have studied and I am knowledgeable in Spanish, Roman, English and Ottoman history therefore I have been influenced by some things and I am equipped in making the medieval history aspect of this story pretty authentic. 
> 
> E.g. the King's Landing wall was influenced by the Servian Wall, the walls of Constantinople and Hadrian's Wall. As for how long it takes to build a wall, I scoured all the history books that I have and the internet and I could not find anything on how long it actually took to build these walls so I just took 17 years (the entirety of Rhaegar's reign) as being enough time. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Kudos, bookmark, subscribe! Leave a comment as it motivates me when I read them.
> 
> Next up is the coronation.


	10. The Dragon Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks contemplate their position, Daenerys gets a wake up call and the Seven Kingdoms watches a new ruler climb the steps to the Iron Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still very much in the midsts of my dissertation so I have been immersed in that. I will eventually respond to all comments. Please be patient. When I have more time I'll get down to it.
> 
> I don't think some people got it but the mystery woman from last chapter is a character we have seen in both books and show. My description of her is how she is in the books. Hint - "for dragon's are fire made flesh and fire is power."
> 
> I'm still in the process of updating the previous chapters. The first four have been modified.
> 
> A 13,000 word chapter. My longest yet. 
> 
> This chapter is politically heavy, so be warned. I think writing politics is my strongest aspect.
> 
> How is everyone enjoying the new season?

**The Warden of the North**

_Seven Bells. All day. Seven Bells._

 

The seven bells of the Great Sept of Baelor had been ringing since sunrise. The habitants of the capital city had aroused from their slumbers to a different sort of day than what they were likely used to in account of this day being unique and rare. _A day only witnessed once in some people’s lives._

 

Ned was sitting on the balcony of his and his wife’s room. The view allowed for him to see parts of the city. The shops of the capital were closed and would remain that way for the rest of the day. The street sweepers, a new occupation very recently introduced by his nephew and the new Hand of the King - for the commoners who lacked the skills in a trade - were outside, carrying out their duties. Clearing the streets of all forms of waste. The City Watch were out in their numbers, patrolling the city and maintaining the peace. Ned had visited one of the three barracks of the Watch with his brother and had witnessed the gruelling training that the men received. Benjen had informed him that the Watch previously possessed a vast number of individuals who were incompetent in fighting. Under the current Commander of the City Watch, Ser Alliser Thorne, the protectors of King’s Landing had rejuvenated, slowly improving to becoming on par with that of the City Watch of Lannisport _. Much to Tywin Lannister’s chagrin_ , _the City Watch of King’s Landing will surpass the Lannister city guards in relation to prowess under Jon’s reign, that I am sure of._

 

Ned had gained the opportunity to meet Ser Alliser. _The man is definitely serious to say the least._ However, his loyalty to the Iron Throne was not in question. The man was strong and honourable, instilling these traits into his men. He witnessed even the most stubborn of men eventually submit to his methods. The Watch had also been increased from 4,000 men to 8,000 men in order to provide employment to the men of the city and accommodate a population that had risen; after those who resided outside the city in the shanty towns were provided with homes to reside in within the city. A population which was now 650,000 from the previous 500,000.

 

The Lord of Winterfell had also met with the other commanders and leaders of the Watch, subordinates of Thorne: the Second-in-Command of the City Watch and Captain of the Lion Gate, Ser Balon Swann of Stonehelm; Captain of the Dragon Gate, Ser Donnel Waynwood of Ironoaks; Captain of the Iron Gate, Ser Harras Harlaw (He was stripped of his lordship over Grey Garden and heirship to Ten Towers as punishment for his participation in the Greyjoy Rebellion. He had been given this position as one of the methods taken to integrate the Iron Islands further with the Seven Kingdoms) _and provide potential hostages if necessary_ ; Captain of the Old Gate, Ser Daemon Sand; Captain of the Gate of the Gods, Ser Arron Qorgyle of Sandstone; Captain of the River Gate, Ser Justin Massey of Stonedance and Captain of the King’s Gate, Ser Garth ‘Greysteel’ Hightower.

 

The captains were competent men and definitely capable. _Some are………unsavoury but they fulfil their duty at least._

 

After they had met the last of the City Watch, Ned had been taken aback by his brother’s words as they were returning to the Red Keep where the Warden of the North intended to meet the new gaolers appointed by Prince Viserys.

 

“I know what you’re doing,” Benjen stated nonchalantly, keeping his gaze trained forward as the two walked side-by-side with their retinue.

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about,” Ned lied.

 

His brother scoffed, “meeting with the Targaryen household guards and their captain, Ser Evin; meeting with Jon’s close servants, valets and page boys; meeting with the City Watch leadership, you even met with the Kingsguard. The Kingsguard!” When Ned did not respond Benjen took that as a cue to continue, “you’re trying to inspect everyone close to Jon to ensure they are loyal. You feel uneasy now that he isn’t at Winterfell under your protection.”

 

He sighed, realising the futility in denying the truth. “Aye, I am worried about him being here. He was never meant for any of this and I just want to give myself peace of mind that he will be safe here.” Ned turned to his brother, “I promised Lyanna.”

 

Benjen stopped and turned to face him, smiling in reassurance, “I understand. I do. But do not fret for he is not alone. I am here with him. Not to mention his Kingsguard include some of the greatest men in the realm.”

 

The Lord of Winterfell nodded, “I know. Though Ser Oswell is questionable.”

 

Laughing, Benjen turned back around and the two continued walking, “Ser Oswell is a great knight. He just has a foul mouth. He grows on you, eventually.” For when Ned had asked the Riverlander Kingsguard question after question the knight had finally broken, “Yes, Lord Stark. I stood on duty for all these years to only concoct a plan to murder your nephew as soon as he would ascend the throne, wasting all these years of my life and depriving the noblewomen of my charms for no reason.”

 

That had all been the previous day. The Lord of Winterfell was now sat with his wife enjoying a morning meal before the events of the busy day began.

 

“This is one of the largest, if not the largest, congregations of nobles since the Tourney at Harrenhall. King Rhaegar did not have these many nobles come to swear him fealty at his coronation,” his wife commented. “Jon has summoned every lord and lady who means anything to come and swear loyalty to him.” _Well, to be fair the war had just been over, and many nobles were dead whilst many fought against Rhaegar so were disinclined to come and bow before the man who defeated them._

“Aye, but Lys is also part of the realm now. Jon was raised in the North and respected by the people there which is why the majority of the Northern lords have come to swear fealty. Jon also ordered the Ironborn to come and publicly swear loyalty and submit to him.” Grabbing a piece of bread, Ned started tearing it.

 

His wife scoffed, “somehow I doubt oaths are held in high esteem by the Ironborn.”

 

_She is right. Only a fool would trust the Ironborn._

“Aurane Velaryon seems to have quelled and humbled them to a degree.”

 

Catelyn simply crinkled her nose. She began moving her bacon around with a fork, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

 

“What is it Cat?”

 

Lady Catelyn looked up and hesitated, appearing to be internally debating whether to ask this. She eventually seemed to make up her mind. “Jon is young and immune to influence.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “it is well-known that Queen Rhaella pushed for my father to be punished after the War of the Usur…..” Here his wife abruptly stopped, “I am sorry, I know it pains you to hear people calling Robert as such.”

 

Ned took a sip of his drink and exhaled, “Robert was my friend, a brother, and that will not change but….” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Ned resumed, “history is written by the winners. Rhaegar won which is why Robert will be remembered as ‘the usurper.’ I am sure if the outcome had been reversed then we would be calling the war something different. This is just something that I have to accept.”

 

His wife smiled and reached for his hand across the table, giving a small squeeze. He returned the gesture, “continue with what you were going to say, Cat.”

 

The smile fell before his wife proceeded with the conversation. “The Queen Grandmother pushed for my father to be punished after the war. That he should be sent to the wall as punishment for betraying the Crown.”

 

Confused, Ned refilled both the goblets on the table, “you are worried Her Grace will revive this issue again?”

 

Shaking her head, Catelyn accepted the goblet, taking a sip. “Sending my father to the wall was not the only punishment she had in mind, as you well know. Not just her but Lord Tywin and Connington both also suggested that House Tully be relegated from their position as Lord Paramount of the Trident. It was lucky for my house that King Rhaegar chose mercy and pardoned us.”

 

“That will not happen, Cat. The situation is different. The Crown will not begin dispensing punishments for a war that transpired seventeen years ago.” His wife opened her mouth to presumably argue against that point, but Ned raised his hand to indicate for her to allow him to finish. “Furthermore, Lord Connington is no longer Hand and Lord Tywin does not hold as much influence over Jon as he did on Rhaegar. The latter was his good-son but that is not the case now. Finally, Jon needs House Tully to remain as the rulers of the Riverlands, which the Queen Dowager will be aware of. As much as I despise southern politics, we have no choice but to be involved now. House Stark and the North will be the strongest house and kingdom backing Jon and, through our marriage, House Tully and the Riverlands too.” His wife seemed eased by his words, so Ned concluded with one last point. “I, with all my heart, believe Jon would never punish your house in such a way knowing it would hurt yourself and the children. He respects you.”

 

Looking comforted, his wife responded, “yes, I know Jon would not allow such a thing to happen. He is wiser than we give him credit for.”

 

Ned nodded in agreement, chuckling slightly. “He certainly is.” _He has not even been coronated yet and has already made moves._ “Benjen should be arriving shortly.” When his wife formed an enquiring look, Ned explained, “it was Benjen who mentioned that House Stark now needs to be the strongest faction supporting Jon which means we need to strengthen the North.”

 

After some time Benjen arrived and joined himself and his wife. With Catelyn’s encouragement, he helped himself to the food arrayed upon the table.

 

His wife initiated the discussions, “what do you suggest the North does to develop, Benjen? You would well know that convincing the Northern lords to be in favour of any small changes will be difficult enough.”

 

“Aye but we need to present these changes in a way in which not only the lords see the advantage of them but view them as fundamental for the preservation and development of the North.”

 

“And what do these changes consist of?”

 

Benjen smiled, “I am glad you ask this, good-sister. There are few things that should be done very soon, as soon as you return North, brother.”

 

Ned waited for Benjen to reveal these plans, “are you going to keep us in suspense or put us out of our misery?” Ned muttered gruffly.

 

Benjen, swallowed the mouthful of food before speaking, “glad to see you are still as blunt and direct as ever.” Sitting forward, the younger Stark rubbed his hands together. “First, the North needs to rebuild its fleet.”

 

Ned Stark’s eyebrows were raised in surprise whilst his lady wife’s eyes slightly widened. “You certainly do not lack ambition, Benjen. The south has assuredly influenced you.” The Lord of Winterfell seized his goblet and inhaled the remnants inside.

 

Benjen Stark did not miss a beat before replying, “this is not ambition, Ned, but something that is necessary. Our entire fleet destroyed by one of our ancestors in his fit of rage all because his father had vanished in the Sunset Sea. If that fleet remained, not only would the North’s economy be considerably higher through trade with the rest of the kingdoms and the east, but the North would be better prepared against the Ironborn. Aye, they have been subdued but we cannot take the risk. Furthermore, the ships would allow for the easier transportation of grain from the Riverlands and the Reach; grain to feed our people and prevent an outbreak of a famine.”

 

The Warden of the North must have displayed an evident look of contemplation upon his face for his brother called him out on it. _Or he can just read me very well. He was always wiser than estimated_. “I know you have your hesitations and doubts, but you have to be decisive and take this opportunity.”

 

The Lord of Winterfell began to become irritable as his tone became slightly raised. “What opportunity? To become like the southern kingdoms with their hunger for power and appetite to advance themselves!”

 

His brother seemed to want to prove he could show his wolf’s blood too for he too raised his voice, “Aye, you **should** possess an appetite to advance yourself and your people too!”

 

They were both silenced by the female occupant on the balcony. “Both of you silence yourselves. You are behaving worse than Bran and Rickon.” Benjen mumbled something under his breath and went to grab another piece of bread whilst Ned exhaled heavily through his nose and faced the skyline of the city. “Ned, I am sure what Benjen says is because he cares about the North and wants it to prosper.” Lady Stark grasped her husband’s hand and squeezed, her voice taking a softer tone when she spoke next. “It does not hurt to listen to your brother’s words, my love.”

 

Lord Stark kept his gaze lingering on the city but eventually turned back to face his kin, nodding his head for him to continue.

 

Benjen, who had angrily torn the bread into multiple pieces, looking at his brother appeared to calm too. “What I say is not because I want to change the North for the worse, brother. I want the North to succeed under your lordship. I want to help you. I want our people to thrive. Spending years in the south, overseeing the rebuilding of Summerhall, I have learnt a lot and I want to use that knowledge, with your support and wisdom, to resolve issues the North has. It is possible to develop and evolve the North whilst preserving and retaining our morals, honour and beliefs. I despise many ways of the south, but I have spent a great deal of my life here and have witnessed, first-hand, how much more progress they have made over us. I want this for the North too. Now more than ever the North needs to flourish in order for us to support Jon the better.”

 

With the mention of his nephew, the Lord of Winterfell’s simmering anger deflated. _Benjen speaks the truth. For Jon and the Northmen, changes need to be made._ “Before we carry on with our conversation on changes, we have to discuss if these changes are even possible, logistically and legally. We may get away with small changes, but we cannot just commence major reforms without informing and gaining the permission of the Crown or they will look to us with suspicion. Looking at the small council it does not seem many will be in our favour.” _The likes of Tywin Lannister and Oberyn Martell consenting to advancements that will lead to the North becoming more of a threat is highly unlikely. Not highly unlikely but fucking impossible._

“We do not need their approval but just Jon’s and it would be good to convince Viserys Targaryen too. Jon is now King and half Stark meaning he is more amenable in supporting us. He has also been fostered in the North and has seen the conditions and lands. He knows the North and Northmen, I am sure he will stand behind you. Especially when he considers that this will only strengthen his position.” _He really has thought through all this._

“This fleet, how would you go about building it? How would we fund it? Who would be responsible?”

 

“I hope you do not think I speak out of turn,” a hesitated Benjen muttered.

 

Seeing his brother’s face and watching the transformation from excitement and enthusiasm when he entered the room to nervousness and discouragement made guilt climb through Ned’s body. _I do not want to dissuade him from speaking the truth in front of me. If my own brother does not feel he can give me advice and be honest than how can I expect anyone to do the same?_ _He just wants the North to prosper as I do. The least I can do is give him a fair opportunity and humour him._

 

Wiping the hardened look off his face and adopting a more welcoming and reassuring expression, the Lord of Winterfell prompted his brother to provide his recommendations. “Do not be simple, Benjen. If my own brother cannot openly converse with me without the fear of being reproached, then I am failing in my duty. Continue.” Ned nodded. “Please,” he added.

 

Benjen looked at his older brother before breaking into his smile that reminded Ned of the little boy who would always ask to spar with him and Brandon. _‘Not the blunted swords! The proper ones!’_ Refraining from chuckling at his thoughts, he paid attention to his sibling.

 

“Well, as for how you would build a fleet, you have one of the greatest resources in the kingdoms.”

 

Ned waited for his brother to reveal this resource, but it was his wife who spoke. “The Wolfswood,” she stated with a nod.

 

“Aye, I do not mean tear the entire Wolfswood down, certainly not any Weirwood trees. However, you can harvest an appropriate amount in order to construct ships. Just as the Forresters do with the Ironwood.”

 

It seemed his wife had now chosen a side for she too chimed in. “It would also give work to those Northerners who have need of it.”

 

Turning to his lady, he addressed her. “So, you agree with Benjen then? You think this plan has merit?”

 

“Yes, I do. If the Riverlands had had a fleet, then the Ironborn would not have been a constant thorn at our side and Benjen is right, the ships will allow for an increase in trade and food to be shipped.”

 

Ned Stark thought about the idea and saw that rebuilding the Northern fleet would have many benefits. _After all, the Westerlands, the Reach and even the Narrow Sea now all have fleets. The latter through Salladhor Saan; Monford Velaryon too has ambitions to re-establish the Velaryon fleet if rumours are to be believed._

 

“Who would have control of the fleet? The Manderlys will certainly want a hand in this endeavour less they be offended if we do not allow them.”

 

“Aye, the Manderlys could control some of the fleet. You would need their funding and they already have a port too. They could have the eastern portion at the very least.”

 

Taken aback, Ned quickly composed himself. “The eastern portion? There will be a Western portion?”

 

“Of course. You cannot expect the Manderlys to have a fleet to combat the Ironborn. They’d have to sail all around Westeros to the other side if there was ever an attack. The eastern portion is for if there is ever an attack from the eastern side and for trading with Essos. The Western side is to repel any potential Ironborn attack and trading with the Westerlands, Reach and Riverlands.”

 

“Where would the western fleet be? Deepwood Motte? Torrhen’s Square? Neither are capable or facilitated to act as ports.”

 

Benjen then formed a wide smile which caused Ned to know he would regret asking the following question. “What?”

 

“Not at Deepwood Motte or Torrhen’s Square but a new seat. Perhaps by Sea Dragon Point or Stony Shore. There aren’t any strongholds there, so it would not interfere nor cross with any other houses.”

 

Ned heeded his earlier words and considered Benjen’s advice. _He is right. There are no castles or towns in those areas, so the other houses cannot find a reason to be offended as there is no cause to favour one house over the other. However, building a new seat? That is no small feat. Nevertheless, Benjen is right. The North has to change, not only for Jon, but to succeed in the future._

“It’ll have to be Stony Shore. It has been unoccupied since House Fisher died out and there are already fishing villages there so there is a small population for whomever rules. The population would have to be further built up though. The inhabitants in the surrounding lands could flock there too, it would help them in winter to have a closer destination to travel to for aid and it would decrease the starvation in the western parts of the North. I am sure you are already aware this new seat would have to be a city.” When Ned finished his sentence, he received looks from both his sibling and spouse. The former wore a bothersome expression of elation, clearly proud at his own accomplishments and his ability to draw Ned in, whilst the latter just bore a knowing look as if she knew Ned would give in.  

 

“You would have to determine which lands will be sworn to Sea Shore. You could include Sea Dragon Point. It does have pine forests too to help build ships and there are no strongholds there, so it could be used to build up settlements. The second sons of Northern lords, perhaps, but that is your prerogative. We would also need to find good sailors to the new lord. Alas, I knew you would eventually see the light.” Benjen stated smugly with a cheeky smile, rewarding himself with a slug from a glass of wine.

 

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his brother in good humour, Ned returned, “you can calm down because we have not finished here. We are still to determine who would be responsible for holding this new port. Whomever I decide will aggrieve someone.”

 

“Unless it were someone no-one could be affronted over.”

 

Lady Stark quirked her eyebrow, “yourself?”

 

Benjen choked on his drink. “Apologies for my bad manners. Give me more credit, My Lady. Firstly, I would hardly be fishing for a stronghold with this complexly devised plan and secondly, I could not rule a castle. I’m past the age of learning now.” Shaking his head, it was Ned and Catelyn’s turns to choke on their goblets of wine after the following words were spoken. “You have two younger sons, Ned. I was thinking one of them, preferably Bran.”

 

When Ned did not respond, Benjen carried on. “It is the most logical choice. He is a member of House Stark so if you choose him no-one will take it as a perceived insult and by the time he grows up, his new city will be fairly built. He has the right temperament too. It is also not the first time something like this has happened. House Karstark rose as a cadet branch of House Stark through a second son. Not to mention there are other houses across the realm with more than one seat to a house’s name. House Lannister have Casterly Rock and Lannisport and House Arryn have the Eyrie and Gulltown. Of course, it is your decision.”

 

The Warden of the North contemplated the option set before him. _Bran **would** one day need a seat of his own. This way he gets his own stronghold and his future will be secured. Judging by the smile on Catelyn’s face she is in favour of this plan. On the other hand… _“Appointing Bran to this new place will certainly not sit well with some of the bannermen – Roose Bolton for one.” Looking around, Ned saw that his wife wished to express something. “What is it Cat?”

 

“Well, I am merely saying but there is a way we can win around lords to support this. A method that has been used for centuries.”

 

Eddard Stark felt a lot wearier as the conversation went deeper for he knew what his wife was implicating at. _Marriage._

“None of our children are betrothed yet. Having one of your bannermen’s daughters marry Robb and become the future Lady of Winterfell is a choice. Of course, there is Sansa and Bran. I hear Lord Tallhart has a daughter of the same age as Bran and Torrhen’s Square is one of the closest castles to Stony Shore and as for Sansa she could…...” Catelyn ceased when she saw her husband raise his hand for silence.

 

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Cat. This is just discussion for now. I do not want word of this exchange between us getting out. Do you two understand? This stays between the three of us for now. I will need some time to think on all this.” The two other individuals present nodded in compliance. “What were the other ideas you had, brother? And please, for the sake of my sanity, just say them all at once.” Ned was worried the other ideas were all large-scale.

 

Chuckling, Benjen shook his head. “Do not look so panicked. The other ideas are not so outrageous compared to the previous one.” Becoming serious once more, he shared his other suggestions, “One; rebuild and reinforce Moat Cailin. This is something that should have been done long before us. Two; you have started already but build more roads connecting the North further, so it will allow for the ease of transporting goods and food across the region, thereby reducing those starving and quicker mobilisations of troops, if ever necessary.”

 

“The roads are being built ever since King Rhaegar and I agreed the terms and you sent me that raven.” _As for Moat Cailin, Benjen is right. That fort is invaluable to the North and should have been restored decades ago. If these propositions of Benjen’s become a reality, then if Bran or Rickon becomes Lord of Sea Shore then the other who does not could become Lord of Moat Cailin. It is only fitting a Stark serve as guardian to the gate of the North. If a house is established there too it will prevent Moat Cailin from ever falling into disrepair again._

“This is all well and good but how do you expect we fund all this? King Rhaegar helped to fund the construction of the roads across the North but I do not think the Crown will aid you in all of this nor do we have sufficient funds,” the Lady of Winterfell voiced her concerns.

 

“Aye, for all the wrong and vileness of King Aerys, no-one could say he did not excel at finances. The coffers were essentially full after the war. A great amount of coin and gold had also been brought in with the conquests and incorporation of the Stepstones and Lys. Some of that was used for the roads. We could ask the Crown for aid again but even then, they cannot supply the entire bill. The North is hardly the wealthiest of the kingdoms.”

 

“I have one possible solution,” Lady Catelyn supplied. When Ned motioned for her to proceed, she did not fail and reminded Ned why he valued her council all these years. “Sea Shore is a large area and if you decide to make Sea Dragon Point part of the lands that Bran or Rickon rule then they will need bannermen to fill that entire region. The Northern houses do not lack for second or third born sons. They could establish their own settlements and strongholds there with funding from whichever house they come from. They can help provide the sum of money. There is the option of allowing sons from other houses outside of the North to settle themselves there too.”

 

_Ned could see the merit behind allowing sons of Northern lords to reside at Sea Shore and Sea Dragon Point. It would also be easy to persuade the lords that this was a good idea. However, to allow southerners to come North would not sit well with many, myself included. Northerners have been mistrustful of outsiders since the beginning of time._

His younger brother broke him out of his thoughts, “there is an alternative.” Both the Lord and Lady of Winterfell awaited this alternative. “The final idea I have for you is mining.” Finding satisfaction in the puzzled looks he received from the husband and wife, the younger Stark explained himself. “The Northern mountains have never been explored and I would give my right arm and leg that there is something hidden there. If there is then that could be used to enrich the North. Before you state that is too southern-like, I am merely stating to explore the mountains first. If something is found, it is your decision whether you wish to mine and export this, but you could use anything potentially found there to help rebuild Moat Cailin and build in the west. The old men of the Mountain Clans would also no longer have to ‘go hunting’ in Winter times, if the search in the mountains proves fruitful. It is even likely the clans have already found something there but have no interest in it. You could provide incentives such as weapons in exchange.”

 

“The Mountain Clans will certainly allow us to enter their domains and profit off anything found there,” Ned mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his brother.

 

“Not us. You. They have great respect for you and if anyone can get them on side, if possible, it is you. I am not saying it will be easy, they may not agree, but at least we can say we tried.”

 

_This ‘idea’ is a dream of Benjen’s. The Mountain Clans will not listen to me on this. Even if by some miracle they do, how will the other Northern lords be convinced?_

 

Noticing his brother’s silence, Benjen attempted to quell the tension. “So, I hear Bran wishes to squire for a Kingsguard?”

 

As the conversation moved away from the North, the Warden of the North’s mind drifted away too. _I long for the days at the Eyrie with Robert and Jon. A second-born son who's only duty consisted of representing his house with honour. I wonder what Robert would think of my predicament now._

* * *

 

**The Stormborn**

_It was extremely difficult to navigate herself through the tunnels. The darkness within was powerful but she was somehow managing. Her eyes may not be helpful in this situation, but her instincts were still intact and were functioning as her guide._

_Her forehead was dripping with sweat. The heat from the volcano consuming her entire being. But rather than hinder her progress, she thrived off of it. Walking past boulders of black stone that had a hint of sparkle; past carvings and markings upon the walls; past small skeletons and remains of animals long departed._

_Finally, her journey arrived at its conclusion when she stopped at an ending. An individual who was uninformed could be forgiven for thinking this was a dead-end, but she knew better._

_Touching the wall in front of her; it swiftly began to crumble away until it was completely gone. Only to reveal another wall behind. However, this wall had a distinction – an alcove._

_Within the alcove were small scorching rocks all stacked upon one another. Upon the rocks sat a clutch of eggs – the largest eggs of any kind she had ever seen. They were approximately of equal size, but all had different colouring._

 

_Advancing forward, she reached out her hand and touched the scaly texture. It felt warm to the touch. Her hand remained on the egg as she felt a faint beating – life._

 

_As if responding to her thoughts, the egg began vibrating followed by cracking. Withdrawing her hands, she took a step back as the egg fractured further. Eventually, the egg split with the emergence of a ghost from centuries past. The new pair of eyes stared into her own. The human and the creature evaluating one another._ _The latter then opened its mouth and released an inferno, ensuring blackness was the last thing she saw before she returned to the world of consciousness._

Princess Daenerys awoke, her body covered in sweat and consumed with trembles. Her breathing had quickened in her sleep and she was now attempting to catch her breath.

 

Looking around the room and taking in the familiarity of her chamber, she tried to calm herself. A knock at the door brought her back to the present. “Enter,” she called.

 

The door opened to reveal her dear friend and lady-in-waiting, Ysilla Royce. “May we enter, Your Royal Highness?” The lady from the Vale saw the princess’ dishevelled and dazed appearance and entered the room, closing the door behind herself. Approaching the bed, she kneeled on the floor and held her mistress’s hand.

 

“Again?” She simply asked, reaching out for a cup from the table nearby and pouring a healthy portion of water. Daenerys took the refreshment when offered and immediately began drinking. The sensation of the liquid soothing her throat and appeasing her nerves.

 

After swallowing the contents of the cup, the princess looked at her friend’s worried gaze. “Yes, they are slowly progressing; becoming more intense. It is no longer simply a clutch of dragon eggs that I am gazing at or holding but rather seeing their actual physical forms and by the gods was it magnificent to look upon.”

 

Ysilla watched the princess and the look of awe etched upon her face. Daenerys knew she was in an almost state of trance. The combination of exhilaration and apprehension had settled within her, the feelings in conflict; with Daenerys unknowing which was the appropriate sentiment to hold.

 

“Perhaps it would be worth asking Maester Aemon for advice? He may have some answers. There is still a fair amount of time before the coronation begins so we could see him before then.”

_Yes. Yes, her great great-uncle was extremely well-read and seemed really wise. He surely would know something._

Nodding, Daenerys began to rise as Ysilla opened the door and beckoned the other ladies to enter. “Talla, fetch the chambermaids to fill the bath,” Ysilla ordered. Talla Tarly curtsied and quickly scurried off.

 

“I heard some of the servants earlier. They were saying the weather today is an auspicious sign. It marks the beginning of a new prosperous era. The royal septon happened to be there too and cited all that talk as nonsense. That the sun has risen on days where tyrants have ruled so the sun rising today means nothing,” Lady Margaery finished as she entered the room, shaking her head. She walked towards the princess’s chest and withdrew an elegant dress that the royal would be wearing for the day. “Oh, there seems to be a few loose threads. Would you mind altering and fixing them Lady Sansa? You are the best at embroidery amongst us.”

 

Sansa nodded her head and took the dress, advancing towards one of the chairs to sit and begin her needlework. As she sat, she responded to what Margaery said, “Jon will never be a tyrant. He will be a great king; one of the greatest the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen.” _That he will._

“That Septon is a strange man though. He was just returning from the city, having ministered to the small folk. His dog, which he’s, wait for it, ingeniously named ‘dog’, barking at me all the while.” _Good dog. I always liked that canine. I should give him a treat._ Margaery then directly asked Daenerys, “where did you find him, Your Royal Highness?”

 

At the mention of her name, Daenerys looked up and joined the conversation. Talla had arrived back with the maids in tow, who were carrying pails of water. “The Riverlands. He was a wandering septon who we happened upon. At the time, he was advising some smallfolk on farming or such, but he retained a great amount of compassion and his capability in reassuring those smallfolk made me see him as a good candidate to fill the role of royal septon, so I brought him back and my brother approved of him.” _Not to mention he is popular with the smallfolk which allows for him to project and spread a positive image of House Targaryen with the people._

 

“The bathing tub is ready, Your Royal Highness.”

 

Daenerys approached the tub, stripping naked and sank into the hot water; incensed with jasmine.

 

“I do not understand how you can tolerate the water so hot,” Talla complained as she and Ysilla began washing and scrubbing her hair and body.

 

“It brings me comfort. If the temperature were any lower, then I would feel it. Cold.”

 

“Perhaps it’s your dragon blood. I presume when your ancestors used to ride dragons they would be able to tolerate the heat more than ordinary folk in order to sit on creatures that would, no doubt, be radiating heat,” Margaery reasoned. The Tyrell lady was at the dresser, arranging the jewellery that Daenerys would be wearing.

 

Once she was fully cleaned, Daenerys rose and left the tub, a robe being fitted onto her. She went to her dresser and sat at the chair. Extending her hands, Talla and Margaery each took a hand and began painting nail lacquer on her fingernails; Salladhor Saan had once gifted all the princesses with gifts including products from Mereen. From then on, the Red Keep continued to purchase nail lacquer. Ysilla started on Daenerys’ hair, braiding and shaping it into an elaborate design.

 

After a while, the princess’ hair was adorned, and she was wearing a blue sleeveless dress that combined both a traditional and modern look. The modern aspect revealing a bit of skin on her upper chest area. Having placed the jewellery on her person, a white necklace with two rings, Ysilla concluded by fixing a tiara embedded with red rubies on Daenerys’ head.

 

“You look angelic, Your Royal Highness,” complimented Sansa. Daenerys turned and smiled at her new friend. When Sansa had at first arrived, Daenerys was unsure about the northern girl. From first impressions, the girl appeared to be courteous and sweet, ready to wait on her every need. However, from experience and guidance from her mother, Daenerys knew never to believe the image individuals would adopt. They would only show what they wished for others to see. However, after spending a fair amount of time with the Stark girl the princess realised she had not maintained a front, but her personality was genuinely what she showed. _Sometimes to her own fault. Her naivety is susceptible to manipulation and being taken advantage of. Margaery already does so._

 

“You are all dismissed. You should get dressed yourselves. The King will be anointed and crowned in the Great Hall by the High Septon and then sit upon the throne for the first time.”

 

Her ladies curtsied and left. Without thinking twice, Daenerys too made up her mind and made her way to her intended destination. She walked with purpose, Ser Barristan shadowing behind her faithfully. Out of all the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan was the one who held a special place in Daenerys’ heart. Ever since she was a little girl, the Bold would tell her stories, sneak her sweets and deter men from approaching her with a single look. He had won the last major tourney held at Riverrun and crowned her the Queen of Love and Beauty. Though, it was almost custom now for members of the Kingsguard to crown a member of the royal family after winning a tourney, Daenerys had still felt flattered nevertheless. _The Tourney of Riverrun. The same tourney where another won my heart._

 

Once she reached her destination, she knocked and entered when a voice beckoned her to do so from inside. Walking in, she found the Grand Maester mixing some concoction and saw that he was not alone as two of his underlings were with him; one was handing the maester supplies whenever he asked and the other was making Aemon’s bed. When the two noticed the princess enter they quickly stood to attention and gave deep bows. This seemed to be an indication for the aged maester that whomever had knocked on the door had entered as he put down the bottle in his hand and turned towards Daenerys.

 

“May I speak to the Grand Maester alone?” she directed towards the two young men. Nodding, they quickly exited; one was evidently clumsier as in his haste to listen to the princess, he almost tripped on his own foot but managed to catch himself. He gave a pathetic smile on his reddened face as he passed the princess and closed the door behind himself.

 

Curtseying to her great great-uncle, Daenerys advanced towards the maester.

 

“Did you just show obeisance to me? I do hope not because I have reminded you all constantly that I am no longer a prince.” The question halting Daenerys. A pregnant pause settling. She stared at the maester wondering if he had truly lost his entire vision. _An old man feigning weakness to appear frailer and more vulnerable is a tactic I have seen before. The last Grand Maester funnily enough._

 

Realising he was still awaiting an answer, she focussed on the maester. Blinking, “No.” Her response only earning a knowing look from the man, who shook his head.

 

He seemed to take pity on her as he motioned towards the chair opposite him, “come, sit.” Aemon reclined on his chair, resting his head against the back and closing his eyes.

 

She sat and breathed deeply, wondering if he had fallen asleep when he failed to say a word for a while. “What troubles you child? I am judging by the heavy breathing that whatever it is; is worrying you.” _Understatement._

 

Deciding there was no purpose in wasting time and going around in circles, Daenerys launched straight into her description. “For a considerable amount of time I have been having these strange dreams.” This immediately seemed to peak the maester’s interest for his shut eyes abruptly unclosed, looking directly upon her. His gaze making her squirm in her seat. _Was this a good idea? I do not know him well enough. He could somehow use this against me. But mother seems to trust him. Rhaegar regularly sent ravens to him too._ The princess rolled her eyes at herself. _What choice do I have anyway? I have scoured the library, both here and on Dragonstone and come up short._ “I have been having them for years now but sporadically.”

“And what do you see in these dreams?” The piercing stare still fixated upon her. He had gone from leaning back to sitting up straight. _He’s surprisingly agile for a man who has seen a hundred name-days._

 

“Some are repetitive but new aspects are sometimes there whilst the others are more unique in that I only seem to have them once; well as far as I can remember, at least.” The maester nodded to her words in acknowledgement. “In the repetitive dreams, I am walking in an unknown location. Some tunnels or covered passageway of sorts. It’s always very dark but an innate part of me seems to know the correct direction to go.” Daenerys closed her eyes and attempted to recall information from the many dreams she had. “In the first of the repetitive dreams, I was simply walking in one of the tunnels, but it slowly progressed to me holding an object.” She looked at her great great-uncle before speaking again. “Just today, I awoke from another dream and this time something emerged from one of the objects…..”

 

Maester Aemon watched her with an intensity she had not seen in any man. “Yes? What did you see?”

 

“A dragon,” was the direct reply.

 

There was a deafening silence that emitted within the room after her words. In the background outside, only the noise of tolling from the bells at the Great Sept of Baelor were heard. The wizened old man absorbing the information that the young girl had just dropped.

 

The Grand Maester was muttering something under his breath. Daenerys leaned forward, trying to hear what was being said. Her efforts were in vain for all she heard were fragments.

 

“Do you know the story of how our family came to flee Valyria, child?” He suddenly asked.

 

Confused about how the question was related to the topic at hand; Daenerys, nevertheless, decided to humour the man. “Yes, Daenys the Dreamer saw the destruction of Valyria in a dream…….oh.” Uneasiness decided to make an appearance within Daenerys and settled on her heart. Queasiness rising within her; the princess swallowed. “You think my dreams have meaning?” The princess enquired nervously.

 

“Perhaps. What do you know of dragon dreams?”

 

Flashbacks of stories told by her mother appeared in Daenerys’ mind. “Some of our ancestors have experienced this before. That some would dream of dragons. Rhaegar once told me your brother, Prince Daeron, also had prophetic dreams.”

 

“Yes, he did. His dream too involved a dragon, but it was a metaphor for the death of Prince Baelor, the son and heir of my grandfather King Daeron II.”

 

“Are you saying my dreams are a metaphor for something too?” Daenerys questioned.

 

“Maybe. Dreams are some of the most difficult things to understand in this world. Dragon dreams do not always have to contain dragons, but you seem to be having both. Your recurring dream has developed to eventually containing dragons. What is an example of an inconsistent unrelated dream that you have had?”

 

“Those are difficult because I rarely remember them. On some occasions I can recall the dreams for a few hours but sooner or later I forget them.” She knew that was not an entirely satisfactory answer, but it was the truth.

 

Maester Aemon nodded in understanding. “Hmm. It is possible that some of your dreams are simply that. Dreams. They may have no meaning. However, others may have underlying messages. I have a suggestion for you, my girl.” Daenerys was relieved that her uncle had some wisdom on the steps she should take. “From henceforth, whenever you have a dream; I wish for you to write it down. Keep a dream diary, if you will. Attempt to write every detail you can remember. No matter how insignificant it may seem to you. Description of rooms; people; objects; the weather; your own feelings, everything. Then we are able to discuss what you have seen and try to decipher any meaning your dreams have. Oh, and do not fret, child. You are not the first to have these dreams. You are one of the special ones.”

 

The advice calmed Daenerys’ nerves. She felt reassured that there was someone who would be able to aid her in discovering the reasoning behind these dreams and what they meant.

 

“Thank you, maester, for your advice and counsel. I will do as you say.” Standing up, Daenerys curtsied which, judging from the loud exhale from the Grand Maester, he noticed and certainly did not appreciate. She meekly smiled and was about to make her exit when Aemon asked her one more thing.

 

“Who else have you told about these dreams?”

 

“Oh. Just my lady-in-waiting, Ysilla Royce.”

 

“And do you trust this lady?”

 

Daenerys did not need to think twice before saying, “yes. I do.”

 

“Good. For now, keep these dreams between us. Do not tell anyone else, child.”

 

“Yes, Grand Maester,” she nodded in resolute.

 

By the time she bid farewell to the maester, Ser Barristan had gone, and, in his stead, four Targaryen household guards had taken his place. _He must have left to prepare for the coronation._ Thinking about the upcoming event, Daenerys made up her mind and started her way to her detour.

 

As she neared Maegor’s Holdfast, the princess came to an abrupt stop just before turning into the hallway that led to the castle that housed the royal family; causing the guards behind her to almost walk into one another. She could hear the muttered voices of the two individuals who were sat at one of the window-seats around the corner. Daenerys knew it was wrong and rude to eavesdrop but the particular women whom the voices belonged to justify this action. _The Targaryen guards have sworn loyalty to the royal family and to keep their secrets but if I have learnt anything from mother it is that oaths can be bought._

 

Turning around, she dismissed her guards; citing she would make the rest of the journey into the holdfast by herself. Once alone, Daenerys turned back around and searched for the correct panel. Locating it, she pressed it and entered the hidden passageway. _Thank you Maegor. And thank the gods mother taught me about all of the hidden passageways and tunnels in the Red Keep. Passageways had been constructed all across the Red Keep and Aegon’s High Hill except in Maegor’s Holdfast itself. Thankfully, the women are seated just outside the Holdfast._

 

Through the tunnel, Daenerys made her way towards the wall, on the other side of which the two women were sitting and conversing.

 

Once she could clearly hear their voices, she stopped and listened to the Rose of Highgarden and her cousin. “…but how do you intend on attaining the king’s heart?” one of the women asked.

 

The princess heard laughter, “you said it yourself, Desmera. Protocol dictates that the king wed me. Prince Aegon is dead meaning it is required for the king, as Prince Aegon’s younger brother, to take me as his own. It is expected of him.”

 

“Yes, but surely you know that an expectation to marry the king due to a protocol and actually winning the king’s heart are two different things,” Desmera shot out as if it was the most obvious thing.

 

“Of course. I remember all I was taught and how to conduct myself around the king so that I remain in his mind.”

 

“You realise that there are many other maidens who wish for the exact same thing as yourself? Arianne Martell for one. She is the cousin of Princess Rhaenys so she has that to her advantage. The princess could put in a good word for her Dornish cousin to her brother. Furthermore, the Martells may wish for the king to wed one of their own to make up for the fact that Queen Elia’s son will no longer be sitting on the throne.”

 

This was instantly followed by a howl from Lady Margaery, “Arianne Martell is essentially walking bare in front of the king with the amount of thin clothing she wears. Forget about leaving anything to the imagination; she epitomises why the Dornish are viewed as frivolous.” Daenerys naturally rolled her eyes. _The hypocrisy is almost comical._ “Anyhow, I do not think Queen Rhaella would allow her grandson to wed Princess Arianne. The Queen Dowager will, without a doubt, play a role in the king’s marriage. She is difficult to read but I believe it is safe to say Her Grace prefers me over the Dornish princess.”

 

“What about Lady Sansa? She is from the king’s mother’s family. Undeniably, Lord and Lady Stark would be best pleased if their eldest daughter were to be wed to the boy who grew up in their own halls.”

 

“Lady Sansa will not be an issue. She tells me about her time in Winterfell with the king and how the two shared nothing more than a polite sibling-like bond.”

 

“Sibling-like bond? This is the Targaryens we are discussing. Speaking of which, that even makes the king’s sisters and aunt competition.” _Competition? Harlot, I already own his heart._

 

“The princesses will likely marry other lords. Jon was raised in the North with the Starks, so he is likely to be disinclined to wed a member of his own family.”

 

“The Starks who have married multiple members of their own family too? Albeit not their siblings, I will give you that.” There was silence once Desmera finished.

 

“Then we must do all we can to dissuade the king away from all these other options and ensure his gaze lingers solely on me. Dropping seeds that will fester until eventually I enter his heart. He will sit on the Iron Throne and I will, one day, sit next to him. He will rule the Seven Kingdoms and I will rule his heart.”

 

Desmera laughed, “Margaery of House Tyrell, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

Margaery tutted and corrected her cousin, “Margery of House Tyrell, **the**  Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Empress of the Stepstones and Lys,” the lady of Highgarden amended.

 

Daenerys was pulled out of her concentration on the conversation when she felt a wet sensation on her palm. Looking down she saw the indent of crescents on her hand with a little blood trickling out. _When did this happen? I didn’t even know._ Shaking her head, the dragon princess unclenched her fist, moving her fingernails away from the palm of her hand and extracted a handkerchief from her person, wrapping it around the wound.

 

Deciding on continuing with her initial intended destination before stumbling upon the two ladies of the Reach who were now emitting giggles and laughter at their words, Daenerys left the hidden passageway and made her way to Maegor’s Holdfast. Passing by the two women, she repressed the urge to completely disregard them when they stood and curtsied to her; instead turning and nodding her head in acknowledgment. _I am still a princess who has been instilled with manners and courtesies._

 

She didn’t stop until she knocked on the door and waiting for the voice within to allow her entry. She smiled at Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur who stood guard; the two returning the gesture with a bow. _They cannot suspect anything. I am simply extending my good fortunes before the coronation._

 

“Enter.”

 

Opening the door, she curtsied to one of the occupants in the room who was stood in front of a looking glass being attended on by his valets.

 

When they laid their eyes on one another, the automatic feeling of elation and excitement filled her.

 

He waved his hand in signal for his men to dismiss themselves. Whilst the royal valets did as they were bid, Daenerys appraised the man who had claimed her heart. His hair had been tied back in its usual bun whilst his beard had been finely groomed. As per Targaryen tradition, he was dressed in light armour that reflected both his dragon and wolf heritage. The armour resembled dragon scales, but the style was slightly northern in it being on the plainer side. _It reflects my white wolf’s humbleness._ Attached to his back was a long black cloak with the red three headed dragon. His scabbard was affixed to his hip with the pommel of his sword visible. His personal sigil engraved upon it – _our house and his mother’s house side-by-side._ Jon wore the ring that his father had gifted him before he had departed for Winterfell on his left hand. _He has a commanding and powerful presence._

 

Once they were alone, the two quickly walked to each other and embraced. The words of the conversation that she had overheard just recently playing in her mind. _‘The princesses will likely marry other lords.’_ _The mere notion of being with another man cripples me with anxiety._ Daenerys clung to Jon even tighter and became furious with herself when a small sob escaped her lips. Immediately, Jon withdrew from her arms and raised both his hands, cradling her face in them. “What is it, my delicate star?” He looked as distressed at her tears as she felt. Suddenly, his face became irate. “Did someone upset you? Who?!” Jon demanded.

 

Daenerys was unsuccessful in withholding a breathy laugh. She gave a watery smile whilst Jon continued caressing her cheeks, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. She shook her head before replying, “no-one has upset me. I just heard something that gave me a reality check.”

 

“What did you hear?” He questioned; his eyebrows drawn into puzzlement.

 

_That I may not ever be able to share these fragile moments with you again. That someone else will be standing here with you._

 

She looked into her white wolf’s eyes and shook her head. “It. It was nothing. I am just being oversensitive.” Daenerys conveyed the most genuine smile she could muster in an endeavour to alleviate Jon’s worries. _This is one of the biggest days of his life. He needs to have his entire focus on his coronation. There will be time for all this later. I pray._

It was evident for the princess that Jon was not satisfied by her words and expression, but he had the intuition to know she did not wish to speak about it at the moment.

 

“I promise I will explain everything later. It is not to worry about now.” She held his hands, lacing her fingers with his, giving a light squeeze. He took a moment before nodding, raising her right hand and placing a kiss to it.

 

She smiled at his loving gesture. “I actually came here to see how you are.”

 

Jon sighed and looked outside through his open balcony doors. The city was filled with life as the smallfolk were out in their numbers preparing various events for themselves to celebrate the new king. _How I occasionally wish we could be one of them. Free from the constraints of societal expectations. Freedom to go wherever we wish and do whatever we desired._ “I’m terrified. I know I sound ridiculous, but I am scared. The gravity of the situation did not dawn upon me until Ser Arthur awoke me this morning to get ready for the day. Before that it all just seemed sort of abstract.”

 

“I think it would be ridiculous if you did not inhibit these feelings. I can assure you that you are not the first monarch to be experiencing this and you certainly will not be the last.” When he opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, as she surely knew he would, she smiled and continued. “Rhaegar felt the same as you. He once told me and Rhaenys when we asked if he ever felt fearful in his position. He said that if a ruler did not possess a sense of uneasiness then they were failing in their duty. Aegon the Conqueror intended for a king to never be at ease in their position. He built the Iron Throne for this very purpose. To remind everyman that being the monarch is no easy task and must never be undertaken with underestimating beliefs. The solution is to never let the uneasiness consume you which it won’t because, always remember Jon, that you are not alone in this. You have my mother, Viserys, the Kingsguard, the council and me.” At this, Jon beamed. “You will become more comfortable and familiarise yourself in your new role as time goes on.”

 

Jon’s gaze lingered upon her face; almost searching for something which he seemed to find. “You are amazing, do you know that?”

 

Daenerys smirked at his compliment. “I know.” He chuckled at her comment. Daenerys pulled a small box from her dress and opened it for Jon. “I wanted to give you your coronation gift in private and I wished to be the first.”

 

Jon’s eyes widened, and he reached for the object within the box, placing it in his hand. “It’s beautiful,” he commented kindly; bringing joy to Daenerys that he liked her gift.

 

It was a grey band ring that was encrusted with a prominent red ruby. All throughout the actual band, the appearance of dragon hides was engraved. The ring symbolised Jon’s heritage – the grey band reflecting his Stark blood whilst the ruby represented his Targaryen blood. _A dragon and a wolf. Fire and ice._  

 

Daenerys took the ring from Jon’s hold and raised his right hand. Lacing the ring through his ring finger; she took a step back and admired how it looked on her king. Jon reclosed the distance between them and gently placed his lips upon hers. She returned the gesture with fervour. Breaking the kiss; the two remained connected when he leant down slightly and placed his forehead upon hers. “I wanted something from me to be with you today.” _A part of me will always be with him._

 

The king assessed the princesses’ form, “you are angelic and ethereal. Everything about you exudes etherealness.” Seeing him now Daenerys contemplated how Jon had changed from the first time she had reunited with him years ago at the Tourney of Riverrun. _He has transformed from a shy reserved boy who could barely string a sentence in the presence of women to a confident dashing young man who now has the ability to reduce her to a blushing teenage girl with barely a few words._

 

She gave him her purest smile whilst simultaneously flushing. Moving her gaze from his face to the floor, she shook her head, “look at me distracting you from your day and making things about me…”

 

She was unable to finish her sentence as Jon quickly cut her off; “ **you**  are a part of me,” he declared fiercely.

 

Daenerys redirected her eyes upon Jaehaerys. He lowered his head and placed a deep lasting kiss to her forehead. Returning to his previous position, she felt her heart about to give out with the amount of fullness that it was filled with. That familiar sensation that the princess had gone through when she had entered the room which had resulted in a sob being pulled from her returned. However, this time it was rather from elation instead of dread. Tears decided to break free once more as Daenerys threw herself into Jon’s arms; clinging to him as if he were her anchor whom she would sink without. _I probably would._

 

“Avy jorrāelan,” she whispered; closing her eyes, wondering if he had heard her admission. _I love you._

Jon placed his chin atop her head where it slotted in perfectly, returning and tightening his arms in their embrace. “Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha delicate qēlos,” he returned. _I love you too, my delicate star._

 

_I have no choice but to play the game as well. The thought of you with another woman in your arms and the notion of me with another man who was not you terrorises me._ Something Cersei had once said reappeared in her mind. _‘When you play the game of thrones: you win; or you die, there is no middle ground.’ I will not fall into the latter which will be the case if I am shipped off to marry some lord elsewhere. I will keep Jon’s heart. I will win._

 

* * *

 

**The Targaryen King**

“Enter.”

 

His chamber door opened and in entered the Sword of the Morning. He gave a deep bow before addressing him. “Your Grace, it is time.”

 

Turning to the looking glass, Jaehaerys inspected himself one final time before beginning the journey that would define his life. His most loyal and faithful companion seemed to know that his support was needed more than ever. His mere presence projected courage for the king. The direwolf trotting alongside him, ever his protector.

 

Ghost had grown tremendously since the day he and his brothers and sisters were found in the Wolfswood. The albino wolf was now the size of a small pony; his blood red eyes scanning its surroundings whilst his bushy tail waggled in excitement or alertness. _To think, Ghost was the smallest of the pack; now he is on par with Greywind and will likely surpass his cousin’s direwolf at the rate he grows._

 

Jon walked out of his chamber, all five members of the Kingsguard in formation around him, their hands placed on the pommel of their swords. In front and leading the way was the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower. On his immediate right and left were Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy whilst his rear was protected by Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Oswell Whent. _Two notable positions absent. I guess I must be the one to appoint two men to fill them. The coronation tourney may help in this regard._

 

The castle was quiet now as all the nobles were congregated in the throne room. The only people present were the Targaryen household guards stationed at their usual intervals throughout the Red Keep, all bowing to him as he passed. Leaving Maegor’s Holdfast, Jon entered the external part of the Red Keep. He strolled past tapestries that depicted his predecessors; right from Aegon the Dragon to his father Rhaegar I. The eyes of the past Targaryen kings providing him with strength and the capability to make it through this new course whilst also dragging him down with the weariness and judgement of whether he would live up to their names. To be able to continue what they had created and maintained. _And avoid the mistakes and crimes that some of them committed. Will I build upon what they have forged or hinder and destroy?_

_Others have taken this exact path before me. The Cruel, the Conciliator, the Unlucky, the Young Dragon, the Blessed, the Good, the Anvil, the Unlikely, the Mad, the Redeemer. What moniker will I be affixed with? How will I be remembered?_

 

Arriving at the grand doors to the great hall; Jon supressed any negative and self-doubting feelings that had been building up. _They will judge me as soon as I walk through these doors. Every word and action of mine. It is time to install the mask that will be with me for the entirety of my life._

He nodded his head at the guards standing at the doors who immediately pushed them open which caused all the noise of talking and chatter to cease.

 

The royal herald then announced him. “His Grace, King Jaehaerys.”

 

Jon examined the structure of the room and all the individuals within it. There was a clear path in the middle of the room meant for him to go across. The pathway was lit with elegant elaborate floor candle stands; from the entranceway to the back where the Iron Throne sat. Targaryen banners hung upon the high vaulted ceiling. There were Targaryen guards stood all the way around the room; settled in the back.

 

The main floor was filled with the men and boys of the houses of Westeros, the Stepstones and prominent families of Lys. They had all been arranged and sectioned off in hierarchal form. Situated towards the entrance were the minor houses with the great houses located at the front.

 

The gallery on the left and right sides of the throne room were brimming with noble ladies and girls: his family; all of the queens and princesses’ ladies-in-waiting as well as other women of the aristocracy. They too were organised in order of precedence. _I must note the expressions on every face._ At the front stood: his grandmother, Queen Rhaella, proud and graceful; his delicate star, angelic and jubilant; his sisters, Princesses Rhaenys, Alyssa and Visenya, all with polite smiles; his stepmothers Elia and Cersei, one wistful and the other with a look of neutrality; his aunt Lady Stark and his cousins Sansa and Arya whose emotions ranged from joyful, thrilled and annoyed but pleased. _She must hate standing with the women in a dress that her mother, no doubt, forced on her._

 

The immediate female family members of the Lord Paramounts stood next. Lady Leyla Hightower, wife of Stannis Baratheon. _The only person who manages to make the Lord of Storm’s End show any emotion, or so I hear. A marriage arranged by grandmother to bind the Baratheons to Targaryen loyalists._ Stannis Baratheon’s daughters, Shireen and Cassana Baratheon positioned next to their mother. Lady Lysa Tully; who stood near her sister but looked put out. _I suppose it is due to her son being taken from her and made to stand with his father. Over-protective is a massive understatement to use on her._ The Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna Tyrell; Lady Alerie Tyrell along with Margaery Tyrell and Leonette Fossoway. Ladies Mina and Janna Tyrell with the former’s daughter, Desmera Redwyne. The Heiress of Sunspear, Princess Arianne Martell with her, presumably, cousins standing behind her. _Sand Snakes. Four out of the nine to be exact._ The four were currently the subject of controversy as the other women around them were shooting glances at them; some of disgust and others of outrage. _Evidently, many feel offended bastards were even permitted in the throne room, let alone the gallery box. They do not help themselves with their attire._ For the bastard daughters of the Red Viper clearly cared little for courtly etiquette with their dressing being more fit for a battle rather than a formal event. _Maybe it is a battle just without the weaponry._ Also present was Theon’s sister, Asha Greyjoy; flanked by, what Jon assumed, were other Ironborn women from houses of the Isles.

Other names and houses flitted through Jaehaerys’ head as he scanned both galleries.

 

Beginning his trek down the path, Jon strode with his dutiful companion and his five knights. Walking past faces and sigils he recognised. Tarly, Florent, Mormont, Bolton, Manderly, Tallhart, Blackwood, Bracken, Mallister, Mooton, Dayne, Celtigar, Velaryon, Borell, Dondarrion, Estermont, Tarth, Swann, Farman, Swyft, Crakehall, Hightower, Redwyne. Lords and representatives from every major house in the Seven Kingdoms. Every region and every island. All houses from the Iron Islands were in attendance – including Harlaw, Goodbrother, Drumm, Botley, Blacktyde, Sunderly. The Commander of the City Watch, Alliser Thorne, as well as the captains of the gates of King’s Landing; the prominent families of Lys and the rising houses in the Stepstones had been summoned for the coronation.

 

As he passed, every man and boy bowed to him. At the front were the Lord Paramounts and Viceroys next to his small council: Mace Tyrell, his Lord Paramount of the Reach and Warden of the South; Prince Doran, the ruling Prince of Dorne, perched upon his wheelchair; Lord Edmure Tully, the heir of Riverrun; Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the East; Balon Greyjoy, Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands; Aurane Velaryon, Viceroy of the Iron Islands; Salladhor Saan, Lord Paramount of the Stepstones; Tregar Ormollen, a merchant prince of Lys who had been selected by the Lysene as the First Magister of Lys; Kevan Lannister, the Viceroy of Lys. His councillors showed obeisance as he went by them: Tywin Lannister; Stannis Baratheon; Paxter Redwyne; Varys; Grand Maester Aemon with his walking stick; Oberyn Martell and at the forefront, his uncle and Hand – Prince Viserys Targaryen - his brother, Prince Daeron, next to his uncle.

 

His maternal family stood to the front alongside his Targaryen family. His mother’s brothers Lord Eddard Stark and Benjen Stark with his cousins Robb and Bran.

 

There were murmurs as Jon walked past with some of the individuals even moving back. _They fear ghost will snap and devour them. I am certain I will hear comments later about allowing Ghost to attend the coronation too._ Chuckling in head, Jon looked ahead, taking in the scene in front of him.

 

Below the steps of the throne, standing on the dais, was the High Septon adorned in his brown robes with his crystal crown. Next to him, a golden padded pedestal had been placed upon which sat an object that had been lost for over a century. _The crown of Aegon the Conqueror._ The ringlet coronet had been brought by House Martell as a gift of tribute. _How long have they held onto this I wonder? I am sure they were saving that for the day my late brother would be walking in my place. Doubtless, the crown would remain missing if I had not appointed Oberyn Martell to his new position. Why bring it now? What are the speared-suns’ motive?_ Jon had been speechless when he had been informed of the presence of the crown. Viserys had told him that he had met with Prince Doran in private at the latter’s request. The Prince of Dorne had then proceeded to thank the royal family for returning the body of Prince Lewyn Martell to Dorne, after it had been washed up, and seeing the value of Dorne by honouring Oberyn with his new office, ending by returning the crown of the Conqueror. _Empty words that no doubt conceal an ulterior motive. What was it Viserys had said were the words used. ‘A sign of our friendship.’_ Jon refrained from shaking his head and instead looked upon the crown. _No matter the reason, it has returned to where it belongs._ The teenage boy in Jon was thrilled at the idea that he will be the first to wear it since Daeron I.

 

The Kingsguard took their positions at the front of the hall whilst Jon stepped upon the dais, facing the High Septon to the left. Ghost climbed the dais, sitting towards the right in the direction of the crowd. Kneeling, Jon placed his knees upon a cushion planted on the ground. Jaehaerys had never been particularly religious towards the Seven. He had visited the Sept at Winterfell on occasion but did not feel at true peace with them as he did with the Old Gods.Despite this, he was not vehemently opposed to following the new gods whenever it was required of him. _Of course, I am not going to emphasise this lest these snakes begin talking about a barbarian boy who worships trees or a southern boy who is not pious enough._

 

The High Septon drew closer and dipped his fingers in a goblet that contained the seven oils. Extracting the appendages of his hand, the leader of the Faith of the Seven began marking the Seven-Pointed Star upon Jon’s forehead. He would draw a point for every god.

 

_One pointed star._ “May the Father grant him with the ability to judge fairly; to dispense justice in an impartial and lawful manner.”

 

_Two-pointed star._ “May the Mother grant him mercifulness; to allow him to show empathy whenever possible.”

 

_Three-pointed star._ “May the Warrior grant him courage; to allow him to defend his subjects from those who would wish them harm.”

 

_Four-pointed star._ “May the Smith grant him strength; so, he can bear this heavy burden.”

 

_Five-pointed star._ “May the Maiden grant him compassion; to guard the innocence and virtue of his subjects.”

 

_Six-pointed star._ “May the Crone grant him wisdom; showing him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead.”

 

_Seven-pointed star._ _The Stranger. No words spoken for this aspect._

 

The High Septon turned and picked up the crown, lifting it up for all to see. There was a rumble of whispers that spread throughout the throne room. The people who were not at the front gained a glimpse of the coronet. Those more knowledgeable were able to identify the origins of the circlet whilst others simply saw that it was not the same as the one worn by his father. The crown was a circle cut of Valyrian steel embedded with large square-cut rubies. First having been worn by the Conqueror; followed by his son the Cruel; then by Aegon the Elder and finally by the Boy King.

 

Jon closed his eyes as the High Septon fixed the crown upon his head. _No longer Jaehaerys the Uncrowned._ Reopening his eyes, Jon gracefully stood up as the High Septon inclined his head at him. The King pivoted and turned towards his people.

 

The High Septon declared for the first time, “Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, the Third of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Emperor of the Stepstones and Lys, and Protector of the Realm.”

 

The King about-faced and looked upon his throne. Beginning the process, he started climbing the steps.

 

_My name is Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys of House Targaryen. Son of King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name; born from his second and favourite wife, Princess Lyanna of House Stark. Birthed in 283 AC during the end of the War of the Usurper, amidst bloodshed and corpses littering the lands; amidst the rise of widows and orphans; deemed a symbol of the war. The beginning of my life marked the end of my mothers who perished the way many women in this unforgiving world do. Taken from her lifeless arms, I was later deposited into the arms of my father. It was in King’s Landing I was raised: under the supervision of my father, the ruler of Westeros; my powerful grandmother and two stepmothers who were antithetical to each other as two individuals could be – one kind and calculating; the other cunning and cruel. Growing up under the shadow of my brother, the Crown Prince, I was judged and sneered at by others for the circumstances of my birth. I did all I could to distinguish myself. Sent to be fostered in the North, the wolf’s blood in me was strengthened and reinforced; combining with my dragon blood. The raven that changed my life summoned me back to the capital. However, when I returned to King’s Landing; gone was the unconfident unsure child who had last been here. Gone was the boy who lived in fear of offending his brother or stepmothers. Gone was the boy who feared the stares of those who looked upon him in contempt and as inferior. Replaced by a Dragon Wolf._

Jaehaerys Targaryen turned and slowly sat on the blades that his ancestor had forged. The blades belonging to the defeated forefathers of the men and women stood in front of him. The King settled upon the Iron Throne as the High Septon addressed the occupants of the hall. “Long may he reign!”

 

“Long may he reign!” Was the answering collective shout.

 

Every man, woman and child bowed, kneeled and curtsied to him – having to remain in their positions of deference and submission until the nineteenth Targaryen King would say otherwise.

 

**_I_**   _hold all the pieces now. **I**_   _control the board now. **I will**_   _win the game of thrones._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> How coronations occur has never been explicitly stated in books or show. So, I took the little snippet we've seen of Tommen's coronation and worked off that, combining it with what I already know from the books.
> 
> Rhaegar was given the moniker 'the Redeemer' if people didn't catch that. 
> 
> We've only seen Jon and Daenerys having sex so I thought we needed some actual intimate tender moments.
> 
> Episode 3 tomorrow. Nervous is not a strong enough word to describe my feelings.
> 
> Please leave a comment, subscribe and kudos. Feedback is highly appreciated!
> 
> Next chapter - the coronation tourney.


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